


Flight 401 Into Uncharted Territory

by misharize_me



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Airplanes, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, Cabin by the lake, Disney World & Disneyland, Drama, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hotels, Intense, Love, M/M, Porn, Roller Coasters, Romance, Sex in the Impala, Skinny Dipping, Smut, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 93,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misharize_me/pseuds/misharize_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean first laid eyes on Castiel Milton at the New York International Airport, it was quite the opposite of love at first sight. And with just Dean's luck, he ends up getting a seat right next to the guy on his airplane.<br/>While trying his best to hate him, Dean can't seem to ignore the mystery in those blue eyes that have him thinking and wanting even after they depart from the airport.<br/>What Dean didn't expect, was that Castiel had just so happened to set up camp in the hotel room right next to his.</p><p>Unplanned trips, weddings, a cabin by the lake; Dean just ends up getting way more than he bargained for. </p><p>But he's not gay. Absolutely not gay. He's absolutely, totally 100% not gay.<br/>.....right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Destination: The Depths of Hell Itself

**Author's Note:**

> Destiel AU, rated Explicit for content/language
> 
> I wanted Castiel's character in this story to be a combination of Cas and Misha mixed together, so he may go back and forth between personalities, or he might just be a little bit of both at the same time...Dean however, is just Dean...maybe with a little Jensen splashed in there.
> 
> P.S. I chose flight 401 because Dean met Castiel in Season 4, episode 1. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean clenches his jaw, pinches his brows and locks his eyes hard on the guy who pretty much just ruined his whole day.

"Hey! This is not fair! This douche-bag cut in front of me!" Dean shouts, as he attempts to throw the security guards hands off his shoulders.

The guard grabs him by the biceps and shoves him, "You wanna get kicked outta the airport? Huh? D'ya?"

Dean stutters, "N-no, but that guy cut me off!" He yells, waving his hands around in front of the guy, "I was next and he just butt in! I had every right to push him!"

The guy looks at Dean, eyebrows raised and a " _I-have-never-been-to-an-airport"_ confused look. His cheeks are flushing immensely, "I-I, uh, I apologize. I hadn't realized the line started back there. I—"

"Shove it up your ass!" Dean spits at him, swatting his hand out to him and brushing the side of his trench coat. He would've hit harder, but the guard was already pulling him back toward the end of the line.

"That's it, kid! End of the line!"

Dean squirms under the strong arms, "What?! No! That's not fair! I'm going to miss my flight! Flight 401 leaves at eleven! "He yells, unable to push out of the guards grasp. His feet drag against the tile and made a loud _squeak,_ which draws all eyes on him.

The man's hands are like clamps against Dean's arms. "Life's not fair, kid."

_**4 minutes and 23 seconds earlier...** _

_Finally._

Dean's teeth chatter in anticipation as he watches the person in front of him go through the checkout security line. The two hour wait has seemed to go by _reasonably_ quick, and Dean passes time by watching some of the good looking flight attendants pass by and head on to their terminals. He's even received a sly wink from one of them, in which he'd quickly return the gesture, but then reminds himself that he's _engaged._

But, despite the frequent _googley-eyes_ , it is still a long wait for a mere thirty-second check, and Dean is more than happy to _finally_ be at the front of the line.

"Next!"

Dean smiles, "Halleluja—"

And suddenly Dean's shoulder is pushed with an incredible force, knocking his airplane ticket and passport directly out of his hand. He keels over a little bit, unexpectedly getting whipped in the face by a coat.

"What the hell, dude?" Dean groans as he rubs his cheeks before coming face-to-face with a guy that looks like he hadn't the slightest clue what he'd just done. The man is tall, not taller than Dean, but tall. His hair is mussed and he's red as a goddamn tomato. The guy doesn't say anything, but Dean inadvertently gives him a little shove on the shoulder, which knocks the guy back way farther than Dean intends it to, causing him to fall full fledge on the security guard next to him.

"Hey!" The guard yells, "What's going on here?"

Dean parts his mouth to call out the good-for-nothing-jerk that had just cut him off, but the guy speaks up before Dean has a chance to. "I-I was just in line. They-uh, called next."

Dean scoffs, raising his chest to the guy as if to shove him again, "Are you kidding me? You just cut the whole line!" Dean screams, thrusting his body toward the man as he grabs his elbow and yanks him in the direction toward the end of the line. The man gasps.

The guard grabs Dean's hand and jerks it away from the guy's arm, "Knock it off, kid!"

Dean pulls his hand away, "Knock what off? I didn't do anything! This asshole cut me off! I was next!"

The guard grunts and clasps his hands onto Dean's shoulders, propelling him toward the back of the line, "That's it, kid! End of the line."

The guard plops him down at the end of the line with a deep breath, which clouds Dean's face and makes him grimace, "Dude, you need a tic-tac."

The guy clenches his jaw, "One more like that and you're outta here," He says before he walks away, turning around to Dean one more time, pointing his fat finger up at him, "And don't make me come back here, got it?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Yeah sure, okay." he groans, adjusting the straps on his backpack. He manages to catch a look at the guy who cut him off as he leaves the security check-out and starts heading to the gates. The guy looks back at Dean and immediately gapes away when he catches Dean staring, his eyes twitching with panic.

 _Yeah, that's right, you fucking idiot. You_ _**should** _ _be afraid of me._

Dean bites the inside of his cheek as he watches him leave, practically skipping the entire security check-out line and basically going right into the gate. And if that doesn't rile him up enough, all the jerk had managed to say was _'I apologize'_. How could the guards not make _him_ go to the end? And why was _nobody_ behind him defending him in the least?

_No, I mean it's not like you fucking cut me off in line after a two hour wait, making me go all the way to the back of the line and having to wait another two fucking hours, and not to mention I'm probably going to miss my damn flight because of you._

Dean balls up his fists as he takes deep breaths in and out. If he misses his flight, he's _screwed._ So fucking _screwed._ He needs to make it to Sam's wedding, and god, if he doesn't, he would be in _deep shit._ He's already missed the rehearsal, not to mention he's been promising to see his brother for months, but things kept coming up and he'd have to cancel. Sure, yeah, he could take another flight, but that would mean more waiting, and Dean just wants to get back to New York as fast as he can.

He can't disappoint his brother, no matter how much he hates the  _snob,_ Ruby, he's marrying. He almost wants to skip the wedding, as if to emphasize his point to Sam about how much he hates her and the attitude that Ruby gives him, even when he gives her his best _attempt_ at being nice. Sam always pesters him about it whenever Dean brings it up.

_"Give her a chance, Dean! She's really a wonderful girl!"_

_"Wonderful girl my ass."_ He'd say, in which Sam would only roll his eyes and scoff in the back of his throat at him.

Despite his hatred, he knew he still had to go. And now, he has no idea if he was going to get on his flight, all because of some _stupid jackass in a trench coat._

His brows sink down and his mouth clasps as his eyes trail over the long line. And he couldn't do anything but stand there and wait. And with his luck, he'd miss his flight and then he's beyond screwed, all because of some idiot who didn't know where the front of the line was.

* * *

When he _finally_ makes it to the end of checkout, his feet hurt from standing, but that doesn't stop him from booking it to his gate. He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he runs.

_**10:58 P.M.** _

He tips over a few people on the way there by accident, but still continues to run anyway, and doesn't bother to yell out a _"Sorry!"._

When he gets to his gate, nobody's there. Which means—

_Shit! They already boarded!_

Dean runs up to the counter at the gate, "Okay, okay, I'm here, can I please go on? I'm sorry I—"

The girl at the counter interrupts him as she folds her hands together on the desk and smiles, "Flight 401 has already boarded, sir. I'm sorry but you'll—"

Dean slams his hands on the counter, "God dammit, please! Please! You don't understand! It's my brother's wedding and I need—"

"I'm sorry, sir but I can't let—"

"Please! I'm begging you! Please!" Dean yells. His head begins to pound. He _really_ could not miss this flight.

The girl purses her lips and sighs. " _Fine_. I will let you on. You're lucky I'm as nice as I am. And you're lucky you're one fine looking specimen."

Dean practically squeals as he raises his eyebrows at her, "Thank you! Thank you so much-uh—" Dean peers at her name tag as she leads him to the door, "Uhh — Pamela. Thank you so much, Pamela. I really appreciate it, you have no idea."

Pamela grins at him and places a hand on his lower back as she leads him to the door, "Mhm, I know you do, sweet cheeks."

Dean returns the smile at her as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. He shuts the door behind him and steps onto the platform that leads to the airplane. Thank _God_  he wasn't married yet, or the wedding ring on his finger would've blew it. Speaking of which, Dean suddenly feels a smidge of guilt grow in his stomach. Yes, he was _engaged,_ but he _needed_ to get on the plane.

He shakes it off as he walks down the platform and onto the plane, where he's greeted by a flight attendant named Bela who seems to give him a bit of a glare given the fact that he's late, but she tries to put on that fake flight attendant smile on her face as she takes his ticket.

"Seat 24A. Do you need any help with your bags, sir?" She says as she hands him back the ticket.

"Nah, I'm all set, thanks." Dean mutters, pushing past her. She nods at him and begins following him down the tight isle, checking carry-ons and seat belts.

Dean squeezes through the isle as he counts the numbers above the seats, and when he finally reaches section 24, he immediately stops.

He turns around to Bela again, "Um, yeah, excuse me? I need my seat changed."

Bela walks up to him with a fused glare plastered onto her pretty face, "And why is that? Something wrong?"

Dean scoffs, "Hell yes there is something wrong. That guy that's next to me? Yeah, see him?" Dean turns and points to the guy, "This fucker cut me off at security and I had to wait another two damn hours in the line. I barely made it to the plane!"

Bela raises open hands up in front of her chest and parts her lips, "Um, excuse me, but first off, that language is not tolerated on this flight. Got it? And secondly, you're lucky you even made it onto this plane. If it were me at the counter, I wouldn'tve let you on. But Pam, she has a soft spot for sweet ass like you, so you're very lucky for that too. Now, I suggest you take your damn seat before I kick you off this damn plane."

"Huh," Dean groans at her, surprised that she has that kind of kick in her little petite body, "Alright, fine." He says, stepping in front of his row before turning back to her one last time, "And by the way, that language is not tolerated on this _damn_ plane."

Bela rolls her eyes and takes a huge breath before she walks away. Dean cackles before drawing his attention to the guy below him, who is already staring at him.

_Just my fucking luck._

Dean looks at him harshly, "Wanna' get up so I can get by?" He spits at him, still greatly annoyed with him even though he had made the flight.

The man stands up in his seat, making enough room for Dean so he could pass, "Of course, my apologies."

Dean passes him and flops down in his seat, "Out of all the fucking seats on the plane..." Dean mutters to himself as he looks out the window and into the dark sky.

"Excuse me?"

Dean turns his head to find that the man is already staring at him with his big eyes, his pupils basically so large they almost cover the deep blue irises around them. "Nothing, man." Dean groans, his stomach already filling with anger at even the look of this guy.

The guy clears his throat, "I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot," He says as he holds an open hand to him, "My name is Castiel. Castiel Milton."

Dean looks at his hand, then back up to his eyes, grunts, and turns his attention back to the window.

_My name's Fuck You, nice to make your acquaintance._

He hears Castiel shuffle in his seat next to him before he clears his throat again. Dean gives him a small glare and sees that he looks really... _upset._ Alright fine, he was confused about where the front of the line was, alright that wasn't _entirely_ his fault. Dean rolls his eyes before sticking his hand out.

"Dean Winchester," He groans, and Castiel turns to him and exchanges a small smile that Dean can't help but return. Castiel takes his hand a tightly shakes it, and Dean is greeted with a warm, soft and kind of sweaty hand, but he still forces himself to smile. Castiel's eyes seem to _really_ pierce into him, and Dean isn't sure how it makes him feel.

Castiel smiles even bigger, so much that Dean can see the lining of his gums and his nose crinkle at the top, "Nice to meet you, Dean."

Dean looks down and realizes he is still holding the guys hand, which he quickly pulls away when he notices, "Mhm," he hums, pulling his hand away and then rubbing it against his knee. Dean is still staring at him long enough to also notice that Castiel's eyes follow his hand down to his knee, and he is still watching as he rubs it.

_Alright, that's a little creepy._

Dean quickly takes his hand off his leg and returns his attention back to the window. _  
_

The lights above him turn off and the wheels creak as the plane starts up, and Dean shuts his eyes and leans his head back before taking a deep breath and _attempting_ to relax on his five hour flight to California.

* * *

Dean wakes up an hour and a half later with a fucking massive urge to pee, and he feels a dreadful cramp in his right shoulder. His eyes are still a little blurry from just waking up, but he manages to look over and he makes out the brown messy hair that is pressing against his shoulder and tickling his neck. And, of fucking course it is Castiel, out stone-cold against him and breathing warm and heavy against his shoulder and chest.

And he doesn't mean to, he _really_ doesn't mean to, but Dean turns toward him and just kinda... _smiles._ His hair smells like a mix between mint and honey, which Dean _really_ doesn't mean to notice, and he sees that Castiel's eyelashes twitch a little when he breathes, which Dean _really really_ doesn't mean to notice. The sudden bump of turbulence again shakes him from his ' _momentary lapse',_ and reminds him that he really just needs to fucking piss.

The turbulence manages to shake Castiel just enough that he inadvertently moves his head, leaving Dean's shoulder now bare and also leaving a little spot of drool right below his collar.

_Yeah, ew?_

The plane shakes a little again, and Dean's bladder _really_ doesn't agree with that. He looks over to Castiel, calm, content and fast asleep, and Dean just does not want to wake him up. Dean starts becoming angry with himself because he can't find the willpower in him to wake Castiel up and tell him to move so he can just fucking pee. For Christ sake he's made old ladies stand up before just so he could go talk to that hot girl that just walked by, hoping maybe he'd make it into the mile high club, but _god_ , for the life of him, he can't wake this guy up so he could just fucking take a piss.

And about half an hour later, Dean is ready to pee in the empty water bottle that is in his backpack. Crossing his legs did not help, because his damn balls just kept making everything uncomfortable no matter how many times he tried to casually adjust himself. He tried not to think about it, but trying not to think about it made things almost ten times worse because he just kept telling himself _not_ to think about it over and over again in his head, which is a really dumb idea because well, he still _was_ thinking about it.

And if it can't get any worse, the plane shakes again, way more than usual and Dean lets out an unexpected whimper. Castiel shuffles next to him, making a weird breathing noise in the back of his throat, followed by a very deep groan before he opens his eyes.

_And wow he has a very deep groan — I mean, well voice._

"Oh thank god!" Dean shouts, unbuckling his belt and standing over Castiel, who is looking at Dean like he's the sun, squinting his eyes and nose and covering his face with his hands.

And then Castiel speaks in a deep _I-just-woke-up_ kind of voice, "Mm—what? Huh?" His voice is gravely and strangely... _attractive._

_Stop it, Dean! Bad!_

Dean clears his throat before looking down at Castiel still in a tired phase, "Dude, would you mind getting up? I really gotta pee."

Castiel wavers for a few moments, "Of course, my apologies, Dean." He groans, unbuckling and standing to meet Dean's eyes before backing out of the isle for Dean to pass. Castiel eyes him like a magnet, and _wow_ , this guy sure as hell knows how to stare _._

"Thanks, man." Dean says, brushing past his arm, accidentally making Castiel let out a little _"oompf"_   in his deep and gravely voice again, which he manages to do directly into Dean's ear.

_STOP IT, DEAN. STOP. STOP. STOP._

He brushes it off as he tries to run normally to the bathroom, but accidentally ends up looking like he has a stick up his ass. And _wow,_ peeing had never felt so damn good. After he's finished, he turns to stare at the mirror, taking the ring Sam gave him and putting it on the counter before he sighs and washes his hands. Then for some reason, he just can't get _Castiel's groan_ out of his head. He grimaces at himself in the mirror before holding up a pointed finger directly at his reflection.

"Dean Winchester, you are engaged. Stop _that._ You're not even gay!" He says to himself as he shakes his head and retorts his low voice to a whisper, "God, you just watch way too much porn."

He leaves the bathroom and begins his walk back down to his row. He stops and stands above Castiel who is, surprise surprise, fast asleep.

_He fell asleep? That quickly? Are you fucking kidding me?_

Dean lets out an irritated sigh before he places a hand on Castiel's shoulder, shaking it a little, "Uh, dude? Castiel? Wake up."

Castiel doesn't budge. His face is turned directly outward towards Dean, and Dean bends down a little in fear that if Castiel did open his eyes, he'd be greeted with a nice face full of Dean's crotch. Dean leans down and sticks his butt out in the isle and shakes Castiel harder, "Castiel? C'mon, man!"

Someone taps Dean on his back behind him, "Excuse me, sir."

Dean turns and sees a woman behind him. She's blocked by his butt pretty much taking up the entire main isle.

_God, dammit, Castiel._

Dean flattens his body out and doesn't really have any other choice but to press _closer_ to Castiel's face in order to let this girl by. She squishes behind him, pressing her side into Dean's back and pushes him _even more_ into Castiel's face, and oh God, Dean is _not at all comfortable._

Dean watches the girl pass, trying his best to look anywhere but down at Castiel, mainly to avoid _certain mental images_.

"Dean?"

_Oh shit._

And Dean looks down, and sure enough, there sits Castiel, wide-eyes as he stares directly up at him, face full of Dean's crotch.

_Fucking shit._

"Sorry, uh, I needed to move 'cause some girl needed to get by and I didn't want to wake you." Dean says, full fledged stuttering like an idiot and doing pointless random hand gestures that doesn't even fit what he's saying, and he has no idea why he even cares that he is making a fool out of himself because he hardly knows this guy.

"It's alright, Dean. Let me get up so you can get by." Castiel groans, his voice still deep. Castiel stands and presses his body back against the seat, which gives Dean one of two choices. _  
_

One, he can squeeze by with his butt pressed up against Castiel's dick.

Or option two, which means he can brush his dick up against Castiel's dick, while their faces will be very close together.

_Well I guess he can't look at my face if my just butt brushes by..._

_Butt it is then!_

Dean steps slowly in the congested row, trying oh-so-hard to avoid the thought of his ass touching Castiel's hips. Dean could've momentarily swore while he was passing by that Castiel voluntarily moved his hips forward to press more into Dean, but that would be crazy, and _very very bad,_ because Dean oddly knows that he would've probably _not minded it._

Dean sways by as quick as he can, "Thanks, dude." He says as he plops down in his seat again, happy to get out of probably the most awkward situation of his life.

"Of course, Dean."

Dean should feel extremely uncomfortable, considering Castiel basically says his name every time he speaks, and he wonders if that's just maybe the way Castiel speaks, or Castiel actually just likes saying it, because for some reason, Dean sure likes hearing it. It could have just been the fact that Castiel has a voice unlike anything Dean has ever heard, or it could just be that Dean's getting his feelings confused because he can't decide whether he's still mad at him for this morning, or completely forgiven him. And then Dean's even more confused because he can't figure out how that has anything to do with Castiel's voice, but then he's struck with the idea that maybe he's just... _in denial._

_God dammit, Dean you fucking son of a bitch, knock it the fuck off!_

"Dean, are you alright?"

Dean snaps back to Earth and turns his head, meeting those damn eyes that Dean just so happens to think are... _gorgeous._

_What the fucking fuck, Dean! Fucking, fucking fuck!_

God dammit Dean tries so hard to look away, but the more he tries to look away the more he notices that Castiel's eyes aren't _just_ blue, they're those kind of eyes that make you feel...lost. Alluring and sensual, with just a little touch of mischief. Like weird speckles of broken glass, kaleidoscopes filled with the daytime sky, and it's almost like Dean can hear the crash of the waves as he stares into the ceaseless ocean.

_Oh this is not good..._

"Uh, what?"

Castiel looks genuinely concerned. "You seem to be troubled. Is there something wrong?" He says, and he has this therapist sort of vibe, and Dean does not like it.

"No, why?"

Castiel grins, "You're talking like an idiot, Dean."

_Huh?_

And for a moment Dean hasn't the slightest clue what Castiel's talking about. The last thing he said to him was _"Thanks, dude."_. Besides that, he's only been thinking. Alright yeah, he'd been thinking about Castiel's eyes, so what? They're just eyes, for Christ sake! There's no big deal in thinking about a guy's ey _—_

_Shit._

Then, Dean knows exactly what Castiel is talking about. He's been _thinking. Thinking out loud._

Dean's heart picks up like a jack-hammer, "What did I say?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just a lot of cursing to yourself. That's about all." Castiel laughs again, way more high pitched than his usual voice.

_Oh, thank god!_

Grateful for _only_ his cursing, Dean lets out an embarrassing smile, "Sorry, man. I think out loud sometimes."

Castiel laughs again, "It's fine, Dean."

And there he goes with Dean's name again.

They're silent now, and Dean reverts his attention to the window again. It's still dark outside, which means they still have a while left to go in the flight. Five o'clock in the morning was the designated time arrival, and by the look of pitch black darkness covering the sky, Dean figures it's only around three o'clock, which gives him two more hours on the plane...next to Castiel.

"So what are you doing in California? You live there?"

Dean turns his head and again and is welcomed with those damn eyes of his, but this time his pupils have practically multiplied in growth by several times, leaving only crescents of the blue outlining the black. Dean feels his stomach flutter when he sees them, because dilated pupils are _not_ a good thing. Dean really just hopes that maybe he's on drugs.

Dean clears his throat, "No, I'm going for a wedding, actually."

Castiel raises his eyebrows and begins chewing on his lip, "I see. Who's?"

Dean chuckles and runs his tongue across his bottom lip, which Castiel certainly notices right away, his eyes lingering on Dean's lips even after his tongue has pulled back into his mouth, "My little brother Sam is getting married to this-this uh _—_ "

Cas picks up on Dean's hesitation, "I'm guessing she's not appealing to you, is she?"

"Well, _she's hot_ , I guess. Not that nice, though. To me at least."

Castiel almost looks a little _disappointed_ , and Dean has no idea why, but Castiel still manages to give Dean a warm smile, "That's usually how it goes, right?"

"Yeah, exactly." Dean chuckles, surprised that this guy could manage to even pull some humor into the conversation, and actually make him laugh even when what he has said wasn't even remotely that funny.

Castiel parts his lips for a moments, eyes trailing down to his lap, "So, are you meeting anyone at the airport, or did you travel by yourself?"

_Yeah, yeah Dean mention you're engaged...to a really hot girl...yeah, yeah mention that._

"Oh, uh-no I'm traveling by myself. Sucks 'cause I really really hate flying." Dean mutters, balling his fists up and he grimaces at how sweaty his palms are.

_Don't you think he'd be interested to know you're getting married soon? You should tell him. Tell him it's a really hot girl. Tell him you're getting married to a really hot girl. He'd be **really** interested, don't you think?_

Castiel's eyes shoot up from his lap, his smile deepens so much his nose has crinkled at the top, "Yes, flying can be awful at times. I'm traveling alone as well. Except I'm not going to a wedding, I'm here for business." Castiel begins to rub his hands against his knees which is certainly way too distracting for Dean.

"What do you do?"

_Tell him you're fucking getting married, Dean!_

"Oh, it's a business trip for a payroll company I work for. I'm the CEO, so I get to travel a lot, for free mostly."

Dean's eyebrows almost raise off his head. This idiot in a trench coat, this damn idiot who travels _a lot_ didn't know where the front of the line for the fucking airport security check was for Christ sake? If the guy's a CEO he can't be half as dumb as he seems to be. So clearly Dean hasn't had this guy figured out as well as he thought he did. At a loss for words, Dean just nods, happy to hear the pilot come across the intercom to break the conversation.

_**"May I have your attention please. This is your captain speaking. I would like to inform you that we are now an hour away from our destination. The flight attendants will be coming around shortly at your convenience to offer food and drinks. Thank you, and have a nice rest of the flight."** _

Dean bites the inside of his cheek, unsure of whether he will be happy to get away from this creep sitting next to him, or whether he will be sad that he was going to probably forget those eyes of his. Or his deep, gravely voice, or the way Castiel's nose crinkles when he smiles, or the way his laugh is way too high pitched for his normal voice, or the way his dark brown hair looks as if he had just had a full-on wrestling match with a rabid squirrel and is sticking up in all different directions, or the way _—_

_Oh god, Dean. What have you gotten yourself into now?_

Dean reverts to the window for a while, trying hard not to look over to the seat next to him, but after a while, he just can't help himself. He looks over at Castiel, who to his surprise is leaning his head in his direction with his eyes closed again. Dean watches how calm he looks, slow and deep breaths making his chest rise and fall slowly, eyelashes fluttering every few seconds.

"Oh hon, why don't you just take a picture?"

Dean's gaze is broken from Castiel and is now fixed on Bela, who is standing over them with a rolling cart of chips and water.

Dean clenches his eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

Bela leans into their row, her eyes fixed sharply on Dean. Her lip curls to one side, "Oh, please. The last time someone gave me _that_ look, I got laid."

Dean makes a choking sound in the back of his throat before he eyes Castiel to make sure his eyes were still shut, and thank _god,_ they are. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Bela squints at him, her eyes small and beady, one eyebrow lifting just a little more than the other. "May I offer you chips or water, sir?"

"Oh, fuck off." Dean groans. He clenches his eyebrows as he returns his gaze back outside the window. Being attracted to Castiel was the upmost ridiculous thing that has ever crossed Dean's mind. He is a fucking _guy._ Alright, yeah, the guy has some attractive qualities, but so does George Clooney. Dean is getting married. Married to one hell of a girl, a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets. A tan, dark haired, brown eyed, hot girl.

_Well I mean MAYBE if she had eyes like Castiel, she'd be THAT much more hot..._

Dean pinches his arm.

_NO! No, no, no, no. Brown eyes. I like brown eyes. I can deal with brown eyes._

Dean leans his head back against the seat, exhaling a long, deep breath and closing his eyes as he attempts to make sense of whatever the hell is going on in his head for the remainder of the flight.

* * *

"Dean? Wake up, Dean."

Dean hears himself grunt a loud snore as his eyes snap open. The plane's lights are blasting in his eyes, faintly being covered by a figure above him. His eyes burn a little as the air hits them, but they soon adapt enough to see that Castiel is hovering over him, the planes lights coming out in rays around his head.

"Huh?" Dean groans, sitting up in his chair trying to avoid the thought that maybe just for a second there, Castiel resembled a fucking angel with those damn rays of light coming around his head.

"You fell asleep for a while. I didn't want to wake you, but I also couldn't leave you here on the plane either." Castiel murmurs before leaning away from Dean just enough so Dean can peer over the head of the seat in front of him and see that the plane is basically almost completely empty.

Dean grunts, stretching his tight muscles out, "Shit, man. Thanks."

Castiel laughs, "Do you need help with bags or anything? Do you have something in the carry-on overhead that I can get for you?"

Dean stands, ducking so his head won't bash it into the low ceiling and make himself look more of a fool than he already probably has. He yawns as he steps into the main isle-way. He stops when he notices that Castiel has a pretty big wet spot right below his shoulder. "Uh, no I don't, thanks though. But-uh, Castiel? What happened to your-uh, coat?"

Castiel looks at his right shoulder, his mouth frowns a little before he looks back up at Dean and begins laughing almost hysterically, "You fell asleep, Dean. _On me._ "

_Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit._

Dean covers one of his cheeks in attempt to hide the rosy, scarlet blush that has just plastered his face. "Oh, god, don't tell me..."

"It's totally fine, Dean." Castiel says laughing again, making his leave down the isle.

Dean quickly follows behind him, "You sure, man? I drooled on you. Oh, _god,_ I'm so sorry, dude."

Castiel doesn't say anything as he continues to walk down the isle, but Dean manages to hear him chuckle, which doesn't help much with the embarrassment, but does help a little with the awkward aura that's around him.

Bela stands with another flight attendant at the front of the plane, and she's grinning at him, big and wide as she waits for him to get off. Castiel steps off and onto the platform, and just before Dean makes his leave, a hand rests on his shoulder and pulls him back.

"If I were you, I'd get on that." Bela whispers to him, before slightly pushing him forward a little. Dean turns around, almost tempted to _growl_ at her, but instead he shoots her a smile with the word _sarcastic_ written all over it.

Dean makes his leave off the plane, and finds that Castiel has actually _waited_ for him on the platform. His stomach flutters when he sees him standing there, a little flattered that Castiel has the decency to wait for him. But now Dean hasn't the slightest clue what to say to the guy, considering he had probably just spent the last hour of the flight drooling an ocean on Castiel's probably _really_ expensive trench coat, not to mention the fact that he had probably been snoring directly into his ear.

"Did I snore?" Dean spits at him. And then Dean turns his head in the opposite direction and mouths, _'FUCK',_ because that is so not what he wanted to say, and Castiel probably thinks Dean is the king of conversation starters with that dumb-ass move.

Castiel laughs, "A little bit. I didn't mind. Some other people probably did, however no one came to wake you up, so I'd say you're off the hook."

Dean smiles at Castiel's ability to make an awkward situation comfortable, "At least I didn't talk." Dean says, because _God_ knows what Dean would've said while his mind was in dream land. _  
_

"I never said you _didn't_ do that _._ "

Dean whips his head towards Castiel and swallows so hard he almost chokes on his own spit.

_Oh, fuck._

They make it off the platform and into the airport before Castiel starts laughing hysterically again, "I'm kidding! God, you look like you've just seen a ghost. Having dreams that you don't want people knowing about, huh?"

Dean puts a hand over his chest and is surprised to find that his heart is still in tact with his body. He laughs, trying to hide the obvious nervous expression on his face, and he clearly isn't succeeding with that, due to the amusing look that Castiel has.

Dean parts his lips to say something, mainly attempting to say _goodbye,_ considering they're now in the airport and they're going to have to go their separate ways eventually, but the words catch in his throat and he just stands there with his mouth slightly parted.

Castiel grins, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Dean." He murmurs before he reaches an open hand out to him. Dean remembers the first time Castiel had reached his hand out and how he was a complete and total asshole about it and ignored him. Redeeming himself, Dean takes his hand and squeezes it hard without hesitation and is happy to feel the same warm, soft and kind of clammy hand that he had shaken before.

Dean gazes up at him, glad to reunite his honey green eyes with the ocean blue one's of Castiel for one last time.

Dean smiles before his phone starts blasting his his pocket, and he grabs it with his free hand, completely forgetting to let go of Castiel's with the other.

"Shit," Dean groans when he sees  _'Sexiest Fiancé Ever'_ is calling him. Nosy girl that Lisa is, she's probably been counting down the minutes to the end of Dean's flight.

"Everything okay?"

Dean scoffs, "Yeah, yeah, it's just my _girlfriend_." He says, before immediately drawing in a short quick breath when he realizes what he has just _done._ Castiel's hand stops squeezing Dean's and he lets go. Dean balls up his fist, feeling his lungs shrink up when he sees Castiel's face; and Dean swears he's never seen this level of pure _sadness_ before.

Castiel rubs his hand against his coat, "Ah, alright. But, look, I have to go-uh, meet my brother at baggage claim, so it was really nice chatting with you, Dean. I hope to see you around."

And just like that, Castiel is gone.

As much as Dean wants to follow him, he can't, so he curses to himself again before answering his phone.

"Hello?"

 _"Dean! How was the flight?"_ Lisa's voice is muffled and excited through the phone, which quite frankly, pisses Dean off.

Dean turns himself around to avoid looking at Castiel as he walks away, "Great." Dean says as he rubs his now extremely sweaty hand across his throbbing forehead.

_"Good, good. So are you going to go straight to the hotel when you get out of the airport?"_

Dean shakes his head at the pointless question, "Yeah, hon."

Lisa is silent for a few moments, _"Are you alright, Dean? You seem—"_

Dean cuts her off, "Yeah, I'm just real tired. Jet-lagged."

_"Oh, alright. Will you shoot me a text when you get to the hotel? Just so I know you're safe?"_

Dean scoffs in the back of his throat. _Safe? So I'm safe? Since when do you care that I'm safe?_

Dean rolls his eyes, because Lisa's acting  _weird._ She's being _nice_ to him. "Yeah, babe." He says with uncertainty.

 _"Okay, Dean. I'll talk to you later."_ Lisa says slowly and deeply. And Dean nods when he hears Lisa's voice return to her normal _tone._

Dean smiles, "Okay."

With that, Dean hangs up before he quickly turns around, frowning when he sees that there isn't a trench coat in sight.

* * *

"Alright, were here, sir. Let me get your bags."

Dean opens the door to the cab and stops to look at the absolutely gorgeous hotel that he really shouldn't be staying at, but his brother has paid for half of it on his request, which _really_ pisses him off.

His suitcase is set down in front of him, and the cab driver sticks out his hand like a gold-digger. He slaps the guy a tip, shooting him an annoyed glare before he grabs the handle and wheels it into the hotel.

A doorman is waiting for him, and slides the door open when Dean approaches.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Todd, and I will be your doorman here at the Hyatt Regency Hotel. Can I call someone over to assist you with your bags?"

Todd has the most ridiculous curled mustache that reminds Dean of _Captain Hook_ , and it makes Dean want to rip it off and throw it at him. Working at a hotel like this, just opening doors for people would probably earn Todd more money in a month than Dean would earn in six, which _really_ pisses him off.

For some reason, everything is just _really_ _pissing him off._

"I'm all set, thanks." Dean murmurs.

"Alright, sir. Have a nice day!" Todd says before he smiles at him, which makes the curls of his mustache almost brush the bottom of his eyes.

Dean nods at him, making his way to the check-in counter. A girl with short dark hair smiles at him.

"Hello! Welcome to the Hyatt Regency, my name is Tessa. Checking in?"

"Yeah, reservation for Dean Winchester." Dean says, becoming even _more_ pissed off at her cheerful demeanor. If everyone at this hotel is going to be this happy all the time, Dean may as well just cancel his reservations now.

"Alright, you will be in room 4022. How many room keys would you like?"

"Just one please."

"Are you sure? Sometimes it's better to get two, just in case you lose one. Wouldn't want you getting stuck outside your room!" Tessa laughs, and Dean picks up the idea that he is supposed to laugh too, but Tessa is just so not funny in any way that he just ends up nodding his head.

Dean taps his fingers on the counter, "Yeah sure, two's fine."

"Alright, here you go, Dean." Tessa says as she hands him the room keys. Dean frowns as Tessa says his name, becoming even _more_ pissed off at _how_ she says his name.

"Thanks." Dean grunts as he takes them, not even bothering to return her smile.

The hotel is like a damn maze. His room is on the fourth floor and involves crossing the courtyard to get there, where the orange and pink glow of the sun irritates his eyes, and the sound of kids splashing and laughing in the pool irritates his head.

The elevator is a piece of _shit_ , playing _extremely_ annoying elevator music, and every few seconds it jolts and shakes and makes Dean want to punch a hole through the wall.

And by the time Dean finally manages to find his room, he is just so damn exhausted that he just leans against the door and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. He swears he's there for hours, thinking of  _that face._ That _sadness._ That complete, and pure utter _disappointment._

And then Dean hears the hotel room door squeak open next to him and the sound of shoes shuffling. The shuffling then comes to a complete halt.

Dean hears someone draw a quick breath in.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes shoot up and his stomach practically falls right out of his butt, because he would recognize that deep, low, gravely voice anywhere.


	2. Destination: The Roadhouse

Dean's mouth gapes open and his jaw drops completely when his eyes meet the one's that he  _never_  thought he would see again. "Cas-Castiel? What-What are you-I just-what?" He stutters. Dean feels his heart pounding against his ribs and it irritates him because he has no idea why his body is acting the way it is.

_Oh god...this isn't happening...please tell me this isn't happening right now..._

Castiel looks as astounded as Dean does. "Dean," He gasps, "What are you doing here?"

Dean's heart is pounding. His eyes are wide and he feels like he just swallowed a butterflies nest. "I-this-it's uh, my hotel."

Castiel grins slyly. "Small world. It's mine too. I'm in 4024." He says as he takes a few steps closer to Dean, his smile beaming at him.

Dean feel's his eye twitch.

_Holy. Fucking. Shit._

Dean's at a loss of words, and he stands there in front of the guy like a monument frozen for eternity. His stomach is twisting in all sorts of directions, and he has no idea how he feels about this. Castiel is still grinning at him, and it soon spreads into a gummy smile. Dean's eyes trail over Castiel's lips, and his heart nearly  _explodes._

"I take it you're surprised to see me." He says.

_Yes. Yes I'm fucking surprised to see you._

Dean parts his mouth, but finds it  _extremely_ difficult to put what he wants to say into words, mainly because he doesn't  _know_ what to say at all. He doesn't  _want_  to be happy that Castiel is here, but his body disagrees. So, he settles for the only thing his body will allow him to say. "Holy fucking  _shit._ " He says breathlessly.

Castiel laughs, "So that's definitely a yes."

Dean shuts his eyes and scoffs before he's finally comes to his senses. "I just- _wow-_ I can't believe you're here, Castiel." He says, his jaw still dropped. He feels his palms begin to sweat furiously, and he hasn't the slightest clue why he's so nervous. Yeah, it was a  _very_ small world indeed, but Dean knows he is way more shocked than he should be.

Castiel shrugs, "Well, here I am."

Dean's finding it difficult to speak, so he just nods his head and tries to play it as cool as possible, but he knows he's failing.  _Miserably_. "Uh-wow. This-it's uh, it's real weird, man."

Castiel raises his eyebrows as he nods, "It is. Very strange indeed."

Dean calms down enough to breathe normally now, and his face is beginning to turn back to its original color. He still knows he's making more of a fool of himself than he ever has before in his life, and he feels himself begin to heat up. "How long are you here for?"

 _Fuck!_ Dean thinks, balling up his fists,  _why would you ask him that? Why?_

Castiel takes in a deep breath, "Not sure. These meetings can go on forever, to be honest. Could be a few days, could be more. I'm not sure yet. How about you?"

Dean feels an immense amount of bliss run across his body. He smiles, knowing that he will be able to see those eyes of his more and more.

_Shit. NO. NO. NO. NO!_

Dean huffs, "Well the wedding is two days from now, and starts around nine on Saturday. There will probably be a party or two, so I'd say about a week tops."

Castiel looks  _extremely_ satisfied with Dean's answer. He nods his head, eyes falling to Dean's lips, then back up to his eyes again, and Dean feels his lungs shrink. "Oh, very cool. Are you excited?"

"Yeah, Sammy and I are real close. Hate to see him getting married to  _Bridezilla,_ but the girl makes him happy. Wearing a suit, though, is  _so_ not my style. Can't even tie my own damn tie. "

Castiel laughs, adjusting the blue tie around his neck. "Well, as you can see, I'm wearing one now, and I can assure you I've had years of practice. If you need my assistance, please don't hesitate to knock."

Dean freezes, because  _that_ was most definitely an  _invite._ _  
_

Dean looks at the blue tie, and smiles when it reminds him of Castiel's eyes. His eyes involuntarily drag over the rest of Castiel's chest, and  _god,_ this guy is  _definitely_ a runner. It's hard to see the muscles through his shirt, but Dean can see that even through the trench coat and suit that Castiel is very well built. He wonders how his chest would look without the trench coat, or the suit jacket, or... _the shirt entirely._

_Oh god, oh god, oh god. Dean Winchester, you are screwed. So very screwed._

Dean clears his throat. "Thanks, Cas. I appreciate it." He says, surprised at how easily the nick-name just slides off his tongue. And it just feels so... _right._

"Of course. It's my pleasure, Dean." Castiel smiles, curling his tie around his finger, "But anyways, I have to go meet my brother, Gabriel, outside the hotel. If I'm late he'll turn into a moody teenage girl." He laughs, rolling his eyes. Dean smiles at Castiel's ability to make himself laugh. It's _cute._

Dean wipes his palms on his pants because they're so sweaty it's almost horrifyingly disgusting. Castiel is still smiling at him and Dean's finding it extremely difficult to breathe.

Castiel outstretches a hand, "It was great talking, Dean. I'm glad we're friends, and I'm looking forward to talking with you more."

And of course, Castiel had to extend his hand when Dean's sure his palms are the most sweaty and unappealing they'd ever been in his life. But Dean can't deny a perfectly good handshake opportunity when he sees one, so he stretches his hand out and wraps it warm and clammy against Castiel's.

Dean's surprised to find that Castiel's hands are just as sweaty as his are. There's this wave of heat against Dean's fingers, and it spreads to his chest and makes him actually, physically,  _shiver._

"Yeah-uh, yes. I am too." Dean nods. He wants to yank his hand away but it feels super-glued to Castiel's skin, and it isn't until Castiel slowly pulls his hand out of Dean's grasp, brushing the tips of Dean's fingers before Dean finds that he can breathe again.

Castiel squints and grins mischievously, as if he knows something Dean doesn't. Castiel smiles at him one last time before making his leave down the hallway, and Dean follows him with his eyes until he turns and is out of sight.

Dean's feet are numb. His eyes are trailing around the room, trying to make sense of what just happened.

And as he stares blankly at the empty hall in front of him, he realizes there's now two things he knows for sure:

1\. He is uncontrollably, undoubtedly, and  _wildly_  attracted to Castiel Milton.

2\. He is:  _So. Fucking. Screwed._ _  
_

* * *

_"Hey, Dean! How was the plane ride? Okay? Did you throw up?"_

Dean sits on the hotel bed and holds his cell phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he takes his shoes off. "It was fine. And no, jerk, I didn't throw up."

Sam muffles a slow laugh on the other line,  _"Wow. How did you manage that?"_

Dean grunts, "Sam. It's a fucking plane, not a roller coaster descending into Hell."

_"Hey, I remember somebody being terrified shit-less of planes not more than a year ago. What happened to that guy? Get distracted?"_

_Shit..._ Dean thinks with a heavy breath,  _I was distracted..._

_"Dean?"_

Dean clears his throat, "Yeah sorry, I-uh, no. I just fell asleep during the flight, is all." He groans as he lays back on his bed. Dean's been afraid of planes for majority of his life, and all it takes is one guy to distract him?

 _"Alright, sure, Dean."_  Sam says with another laugh,  _"Oh, and also, I have news."_

Dean's body hitches and he sits up in bed, "You dumped Ruby? Oh please tell me you dumped Ruby!" He says excitedly.

_"You're on speaker phone, jackass!"_

Dean cracks up, "Whoops,  _my bad._ Sorry I'm  _not_  sorry, Ruby." He says sarcastically, and he hears Ruby huff on the other line. "Sammy, take me off speaker, would ya?"

 _"You're off,"_  Sam clears his throat,  _"C'mon man, you know I'm not dumping Ruby."_

Dean falls back on the bed, his body deflating. "I know, unfortunately. So what's the news?"

_"We postponed the wedding."_

And just like that, Dean's sitting back up on the bed again, "What? Why? Sam! I don't-I can't stay in this hotel-the money _—_ "

 _"I know,"_  Sam cuts him off, his voice is deep and serious.  _"That's why I'm going to take care of it, alright? It's been moved to next Thursday."_

Dean's jaw drops, "Thursday? Next Thursday? Are you fucking kidding me? A week?! I hardly even have enough clothes to last me 'til Sunday!" Dean runs his hand over his forehead when he feel's it beginning to throb. He pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sam, I can't stay in this hotel. And Lisa... _god_ , she'll get thrown off her rocker."

 _"Yes you can! And you will! I told you I'm taking care of the money, alright? And since when do you give a fuck what Lisa thinks? What she's_ done _to you, how she treats you is unex—"_

"Stop, Sam." Dean huffs. He does  _not_ want to talk about this right now. He plops his butt on the bed with a loud grunt. Sam's right, Lisa is the last thing he needs to be worrying about, but he  _is_ worrying about the expenses here. He's lucky his brother is a fancy, rich-ass lawyer who can afford to stay in nice hotels like this for more than a week. "I'm saving up enough money from the shop and paying you back. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Dean's headache spreads. It's going to take him  _months_ to earn enough money at the repair shop to pay his brother back. He's been putting little pieces of his earnings into a savings account since he got the mechanic job when he was 27. Three years later, he figures he has enough money to pay for  _at least_ a week at the hotel. Probably less.

Sam takes a slow breath,  _"You don't have to Dean. I'm your brother. I_ want _to do these things for you."_

"You really think that's gonna cut it, Sammy? It's a no. I'm repaying you every penny. And don't argue with me 'cause you ain't gettin' anywhere."

The phone is silent for a while and all Dean hears is the pounding in his head.

_"I don't understand why you can't just let me help y—"_

"Sam..." Dean growls as he clenches his eyebrows. He's  _so_ not in the mood to do this right now, and all he wants to do is close his eyes and fall asleep. He's used to Sam asking to help him, but Dean knows he'll always be too stubborn to say yes. It's not that he doesn't  _need_ help, it just that he doesn't  _want_ it.

Sam sighs,  _"Alright, Dean."_  He says. Dean hears Ruby call Sam's name on the other line.  _"Dean, I have to go."_

Dean smiles, "Man, Sammy. You are  _so_ whipped."

_"Shut up, Dean!"_

"If I say yes to you helping me, will you dump the bitch?" Dean laughs.

_"Goodbye, Dean."_

Dean can practically _hear_ Sam's bitch-face when he hangs up. Dean slumps his stomach on his bed. It's only been 10 hours since he's left New York, and he's already desperate to go back home. He's probably only got clothes to last him until Sunday, not to mention he's probably going to spend the rest of his money here. Dean's head is throbbing and he closes his eyes as he lets his body drift of to sleep.

And somewhere in the midst of all this madness, Dean see's the smallest spark of light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe being stuck here with a hotel room next to Castiel wouldn't be so bad after all.

He's smiling when he closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep, dreaming of blue eyes and dark hair, sweaty palms, and blue ties, and trench coats.

* * *

Dean wakes up a few hours later, and his headache is gone. He rubs his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom and starts the shower. He needs one badly, considering he's been sweating like a pig since the middle of the flight. And his  _dreams_ did not help.

This is bad. Very bad. He knows that the more time he spends with Castiel, the more difficult it will be to say goodbye. He's in a relationship _,_ and he can't seem to understand why he can't grasp the fact that he's  _engaged_. He's been with Lisa for five years. Five _years_  he's been in this relationship, yet he still feels like something is missing. Lisa had done bad things,  _terrible things,_ that left cracks in their relationship. Dean's done everything he can to patch and tape them up, and suddenly it's as if the tape is tearing apart, and all the cracks are showing.

Dean stops his thoughts, because it's not at all what he wants to be thinking about.

_What the fuck's gotten into you, Winchester? Pull yourself together!_

He pinches the bridge of his nose before he removes his clothes and steps into the hot water. He shuts his eyes and tries to think of Lisa's beautiful brown eyes. He tries to think of her body against his, and the way she kisses him. And it's slowly fading. Fading into blue eyes,  _his_ body against his. The way  _he_ would kiss him.

Dean's eyes snap open. He parts his mouth and breathes heavily, "Stop, Dean. Stop, stop,  _stop._ " He whispers as he pounds his fist against the shower wall.

He gets out of the shower quickly, throws on a tattered pair of basketball shorts and a Led Zeppelin tee before he flops into bed again. Dean eyes are tightly shut, and he begins to breathe slowly, and he calms himself down with the thought of blue eyes again. He goes to twist the ring on his finger.

His eyes snap open.

It's  _gone._

The ring is  _gone._

Dean's body jolts out of bed as he rushes to the bathroom. His hands are scrambling on the floor, and his heart begins to pound the more he looks, because he  _can't find it._ He looks in the shower, in the room, under the bed, and he practically tears apart his suitcase and backpack. And it's  _not there._ Sam's ring. The silver ring Sam gave him for his twenty-first birthday, is  _gone._

Dean panics, his hands finding his hair and roughly entwining his fingers in the strands, "No..." He whispers. This silver little circle has helped Dean through some of the worst times of his life by reminding him that Sam was always going to be his brother, and that Sam was always going to be there for him. And he  _lost it._

Dean stops breathing. "I left it on the plane!" He yells, remembering it clearly now. He'd taken it off and set it down in the bathroom when he washed his hands. "How could I forget to take it?!"

_Cas._

He'd been thinking about Cas.

Dean feels the heat rise in his stomach. He'd lost his brothers ring, because he'd been too caught up in a  _guy_? Dean has just lost the most important thing in his life because of a  _stupid_ ,  _fucking_   _guy_.

Dean's stomach twists as he kicks the side of the bed, "Fuck! Are you fucking kidding me?! FUCK!" He screams as he paces in his room. His headache returns, and it's throbbing furiously against his skull.

Sam is going to be  _so_ disappointed in him. His brother is going to  _hate_  him, just like his Dad. For being an absolute  _fuck up._ The heat rises to his face, turning his cheeks red.

Dean slips on his shoes, grabs a gray hoodie out of his bag, and strides angrily out the door. He's so angry he can't think straight, and Dean's sure his legs aren't working properly. He collides with someone as he's walking down the hall.

Dean's too angry to apologize, let alone look up. He keeps walking, when suddenly a strong hand grips his shoulder.

"Dean?"

Dean looks up.

_Oh you have got to be **fucking**  kidding me._

"Out of everyone I could've bumped into, it had to be you! God dammit, Cas!" He yells, and he feels the utmost urge to punch Castiel in the face for the way he's staring at him, because his eyes are  _not_ helping.

He shoves Castiel off him and continues walking down the hall. His head is buzzing and throbbing and all he knows at the moment is that he needs a  _drink._

Castiel runs after him and cuts in front of him, blocking Dean from the hallway, "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Get the fuck out of my way, Cas." Dean spits at him as he tries to shove Castiel away, but he doesn't budge.

"Did something happen?" Castiel says, his voice low and deep. And it makes Dean even angrier because  _that's_ the whole reason he's in this mess anyways.

"Yes," Dean snaps as he clenches his jaw, " _You_  happened."

The look that forms in Castiel's eyes is something that Dean has never seen before. His face sinks, and all that's left is a slightly parted mouth and glassy eyes.

Castiel flinches and his mouth is twitching as it tries to search for words, "I don't, I don't underst—"

Dean shoves Castiel hard. He knows if he doesn't walk away  _now,_ he won't be able to walk away at all. "Fuck you, Castiel. I wish I had  _never_ met you." He screams at him as he continues down the hall.

Dean hears Castiel whimper something, but Dean ignores it, because it's  _all his fault._  Dean won't stand to hear or look at Cas for another moment, and it leads him outside the hotel, where he boards a hotel shuttle bus heading towards the closest bar in sight.

Dean curses to himself the whole ride there.

When the car pulls up to the bar, Dean slams the car door, not even bothering to acknowledge the driver, and makes his way to the old wooden building. Dean looks up at the ratty old sign above the door reading:  _The Roadhouse,_ and he pushes the door to the bar open, sending the wooden doors smashing against the wall. There's people staring at him, but he doesn't care. A girl with wavy blonde hair approaches him from behind the counter as he sits in a stool.

"Someone's definitely not having a good night." She says to him as she pours less than a quarter of a cup of whiskey and and sets it down in front of him. "On the house."

Dean looks at her and nods, "Thank you." He groans.

She's stares down at him cunningly, her brown eyes intimidating and daunting. "Name's Jo." She says as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

Dean manages to curl his lips slightly. She would've definitely been someone Dean would take home if he were single. Her body was slim and hostile, and Dean knew she'd be a good catch. "Thanks, Jo."

Jo nods at him and places a beer in front of him before she turns away. Dean watches her leave and sips down the vodka in one gulp. He cringes when it slides down his throat. He doesn't hesitate, and he grabs the beer from the counter and sips that too. Dean wants to get drunk. He wants to forget. He  _needs_ to forget blue eyes and dark hair.

His encounter with Cas is playing on repeat in his head. He swallows hard, because he knows he said things back there that he wished had never left his mouth, let alone even cross his mind.

_I wish I had never met you._

Dean smacks himself in the head.

_You fucking idiot!_

He takes a deep breath and buries his face in his hands. He knows it isn't Castiel's fault. He just needs someone to blame, because it's easier than blaming himself.

"Need to talk?"

Dean looks up and Jo's sitting in the stool next to him. She purses her lips at him, and a formidable vibe radiates off her skin. "No." Dean says dryly.

Jo laughs, "Oh, please, you look like you just got hit by a train."

Dean feels a heavy weight against his chest. "Something like that." He groans.

She sighs, and her fingers begin to tap on the counter. "And let me guess, you wanna get real drunk, 'cause you think it'll help?"

Dean lifts his face from his hands to look at her. Her eyes seem to read right through him. He looks away, "Just get me another whiskey, huh?"

Jo takes a deep breath, "Look, I don—"

"Just do it! I'm the fucking customer!" Dean snaps at her. Eyes lock on him again, and he feels like the world is watching him.

"Jo, what's going on here?"

Dean turns and sees a much older woman with darker hair standing behind the counter. Her eyes are the same as Jo's, hostile and threatening, and Dean doesn't need to guess anymore than once to know that the woman is Jo's mother.

"Nothing, mom." Jo spits.

"' _Nothing, Mom'_ my ass." She spits right back. Her eyes are taking turns switching from Jo to Dean. "Jo, wanna introduce me to your new friend?"

Dean tilts his head, and he's sure that Jo's mom is by far the scariest woman he's ever encountered. Jo clears her throat, "I wouldn't call us  _friends_ , mom."

"Introduce me anyways."

Jo exchanges a look with Dean and Dean pulls his hand forward. "Dean Winchester," He says. Her shake is firm and solid.

She grins, "Ellen Harvelle." She lets go of his hand and turns her head to Jo. "I see you've met my daughter, Jo." Dean nods. He's really not in the mood to talk to anyone, but he's scared to stop talking to Ellen, because she's  _that much_ intimidating. Ellen cocks her head at him, "Hon, you look like you just got hit by a train."

Dean can't help but smile, "Like mother like daughter," He says as he tips the beer to his lips, "Jo said the same thing. That obvious, huh?" Dean swigs his beer.

Ellen and Jo exchange laughs, "Order anything you want, sweetie. It's on us tonight." Ellen says before she disappears into the back room.

Jo pats him on the back, "Well, Dean, call me over when you need another one." She says with a dry smile.

And Dean does just that.

He does it over and over again, until he feels like he's going to be sick. The alcohol hits him all at once, and now he's singing along to a song that's playing behind the counter on the radio that he can't hear, but he's cursing out loud because the  _person singing_ _on the radio_  has the words  _wrong._ Dean's voice is staggering all over the place along with the rest of his body, and he swings his arms around some blonde chick and kisses her cheek.

Dean presses his face close to the girl's neck, "And-who-uh-what's you-you are, ugh, your name, blondie?"

The girl laughs and leans against the pool table, "Oh babe, you are  _way_ to drunk for me. Sober up and we'll talk," She grins against his cheek before she runs her lips over the bone, "Name's Lilith."

Dean hooks his arm around her waist and presses himself into her, not because he wants to touch her, but mainly because he's having trouble holding himself up. "Mmm, baby, y-you, did I e'r tell y-you that you're  _soooooo_ _hot_." He says. His head falls to the crease of her neck.

Liilith leans away, "Mmm, boy. You are  _gone._ " She says as she pulls away from the pool table. Dean tries to follow her, but he hits his shoulder when he stumbles slightly, knocking against an older woman. Dean grunts, and eyes the drink in her hand. He doesn't know what's in it, but he snatches the glass from her in one quick moment before he chugs the remaining contents.

The woman gasps, "Hey! What the—"

Dean places his finger on her lips and giggles, "Shhhh. Y-you ma'am, 're speak'n real loud." He says, and the woman swats his hand away and pushes past him.

Dean's body flings around as he watches her leave, "Well, fine! I don't nee' no girl. Imma strong ind-independent man, who don' nee' nobody!" He spits, and some people move away from him. He laughs at them, because they don't know how much  _fun_ Dean's having. He's enjoying himself more than he's ever in years. He can't tell what's real, or what's in his head, and he  _loves_ it.

He hurls his body to the counter and leans all his weight into it. Jo sees him and walks over, her face baffled.

"Dean, you should probably stop drinking alcohol." She says quietly.

Dean rests his chin on the counter as he lifts his finger and puts it on her nose, "See, th' only thing t-that went in my ear, was  _you_ 'nd uh— _alcohol_. So let's make it 'appen, huh?" Dean pinches her nose, and Jo pulls away as she shakes her head.

"No, Dean!" She yells.

Dean pushes himself off the counter and backs up with long, slow strides. "C'mon! What's it take 'ta get some alc-alcohol 'round here!?" Dean opens his arms to her, one out on each side of his body.

He turns and locks his eyes on who he  _thinks_ is Lilith, or Leona, and frankly Dean can't remember her name and frankly, he doesn't care. "Yooo, girl!" He calls as he swings his legs in her direction, but accidentally bumps into one of the men playing pool. The man turns to him slowly, and Dean can't make out the expression on his face all too well, but he knows that it's not good. _  
_

The man shoves him, "You fucking kidding me, kid?"

Dean's pushed so his back hits a table, "Woah, guy, I don't wan' no trouble. Don' mess with me!" He yells at him, swatting his hand against his arm like there was a mosquito on it.

The man grunts as he grabs the collar of Dean's shirt, shoving him so the table falls behind him. The table hits the ground with a loud crash, and all eyes lock on them.

Another man grabs the guy's shoulder, "Gordon, come on, he's just drunk. He doesn't know what he's doing."

Gordon, which Dean concludes is the man that is only inches from his face, shoves Dean more before he turns his head. "Shuddup, Vic! Fuckin' kid has been a little shit all night long! I'm sick of it!"

Dean wraps his hands around Gordon's wrist, and shoves him with as much force as there is left in his body. Gordon keels a little and Dean laughs as he frees himself from his grasp. "Ha-ha! You lose!" Dean yells. He flips him off and waves his finger around as if it's some kind of trophy. Dean's happy and he isn't going to let an old fart like this guy ruin his night.

Gordon growls, "Oh, boy, you're gonna regret that, you fucker." He says. His legs stride towards Dean, and in one brisk move, his fist collides with the left corner of his jaw. Dean swoons against the counter and knocks his head hard on one of the stools. Dean's skull feels like its just broke in half, and there's a blaring pain piercing his face.

In fear of being hit again, Dean swings his arms out at the man, but all he sees is a shapeless figure reaching for his collar. Dean whacks him hard in the eye, and he feels his knuckles crack against Gordon's cheek, even though his hands are numbed.

"You fucker!" Gordon snarls before he hits Dean with a forward uppercut. And  _oh_   _boy,_ Dean felt that one. He feels his teeth clash onto his lip, and suddenly his whole tongue swirls around a puddle of blood. And another one comes, this time it hits Dean in the eye, and then his eyelashes cover with red droplets that seeps into Dean's eye.

"You sonuvabitch!" Dean shouts. His lips are numb, and he feels trickles of blood seeping down his throat. Dean can't feel anything, but at the same time, he feels  _everything._ His body tingles and is numb, yet he feels every ounce of pain as it transfers into his core.

Gordon is suddenly pulled off him by two strong arms.

"Gordon Walker! You get outta my bar this instant! You hear me?"

There's faint arguing but Dean can't seem to hear it. His ears are buzzing when his eyes struggle to adjust as the room spins around him. His head throbs and he hears soft whimpers that are too loud for his brain to process and its extremely overwhelming.

Dean feel someone's arms grasp his shoulders and haul him up. Dean feels a heavy grip on his back, and his other arm is over someone's shoulders. He hears low yells that are echoing through his ears that he can't make out. He's not really sure what his legs are doing, but they're moving in motion with the hands around his back.

There's a sudden blow of cool air on his face and he knows he's outside. He has a moment where he forgets who he is, and he's left with this loud buzz in his head. And he feels his stomach twist, and he gags and chokes before he finally feels himself bend and hurl a decent amount of alcohol in his stomach. The hands are rubbing his back. There's a strong bitter taste in the back of his throat but he feels a little bit better now that theres not as much alcohol in his system.

He sees a whip of blonde hair sweep across his eyes. "Jo.." He whispers, and his throat burns. He sees a pair of brown eyes before they turn away, and he's being hauled into the passenger's seat of a car. Dean closes his eyes and tries to remember why he's at the bar. He tries to remember why he's in California, but it seems to have slipped his mind.  _Everything_ has seemed to slip his mind.

Jo leans into him and hits him on the side of the face. "Hey, you with me, bud? Where you staying? I'm taking you home."

Dean watches her lips move, but it's blurry and slow, and his ears work just well enough that he makes out just the word  _'home'_. He parts his lips and lets out a breath before he stifles a whimper, "Hy-Hyatt." He groans, and he still tastes the faint flavor of blood and acid in his throat.

"The Regency?"

Dean nods.

The car starts, and Dean feels his body vibrate against the engine. He's moving, and there's lights whipping by in the window. Big, blurry spots of brightness pass him, and he make's out the blurred vision of a pole, a stop sign and trees. He closes his eyes for a second, or for what he  _thinks_ is a second, and suddenly the car comes to a halt, and Dean gasps as his eyes snap open. Moments later Dean feels the hands on his shoulder again. He's dragged out of the car, and there's a heavy weight that's pressing down on him that makes it hard for him to stand.

"Okay, Dean. What room number. Can you remember what room number you are?"

Dean's head still throbs, and he's trying to think. It hard to think with the lump that's stuck in his throat, and his body feels hot and sweaty.

And he remembers a voice. A deep low gravely one echoes in his ear.

_"Small world. It's mine too. I'm in 4024."_

Dean coughs, "4024. Take-take me to 4024." He breathes. And he's being dragged now, because his legs have decided to go full out M.I.A on him. He blinks, and it feels slow, like he's missed a chunk of time in only a quarter of a second. He blinks, and he's in the lobby. And then he blinks again, and he's in the elevator. Once more, and now he's in the hallway.

He hears Jo counting, and then she stops and sets him down on the ground against the wall. He blinks, and there's two figures over him and now he's unable to see or hear anyone, and there's just these faint colorful shapes moving above him. He's keeling over, and his head feels like its fifty pounds and getting heavier by the second, and soon he's unable to keep it up anymore, and its falls hard on the ground.

Then he feels someone wrap their arms around the bends of his knees, and then the arch of his back, and then he's floating. He still hears buzzing and he starts to feel the pain that resides in his face from the fight.

He blinks one last time, and sees blue eyes, bright and glistening into his.

And it's the last thing Dean can remember before he blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up next weekend!  
> Let me know how you like it! :)


	3. Destination: A Very Complexly Broken Down Elevator

It's a strong smell that hits him hard the next morning.

It makes him want to be sick, but it also smells  _extremely_ good, but mostly, it just makes him want to be really sick. He feels it growing and building in his stomach, and then it slaps him straight in the face, and before he's registered what's going on or where the hell he is, he hops off of the mattress and runs straight into the bathroom, slams the door, and leans over the toilet.

Dean's body was shivering and he could feel this terrible throbbing in his head as he continued to hurl up whatever was left in his stomach from last night. There's a pounding in his chest that he's not entirely sure is his heart, and it starts to calm down when he's finished and just leaning his head against the side of the toilet seat.

His head is still throbbing rapidly, and his breathing starts to reside, and all he can taste is this weird, bitter acid and the slightest faint flavor of whiskey. Dean barely remembers anything of what happened last night, so he decides to run his hand over his face to rid the sweat, but then realizes it's an  _extremely_ bad idea when he feels his face ache and sting underneath his hand.

_Shit._

It's all coming back. Not  _all_ of it, but little bits and pieces of it that Dean really wishes he hadn't remembered.

There was alcohol,  _lots_ of alcohol, and a girl that he can't really remember her face but he remembers that she was one hell of a lady. And then there was more alcohol, and fighting,  _lots_ of fighting.

He grimaces as he flushes the toilet and stands, walking over to the mirror and taking a good, long look at himself.

_Holy shit._

There's one  _hell_ of a bruise under and around his left eye, followed by a very small nick above his right eyebrow, and a tiny, little gash on his bottom lip that decided to start bleeding a little bit, and is now leaking tiny droplets of blood down his chin. He wipes the blood from his face and washes his hands

_Holy fuck._

Distracted for a while with the marks on his face, Dean finally realizes something.

This is not his bathroom. His bathroom is way smaller, and this one is almost  _twice_ the size of his. And most importantly, he realizes that he is not wearing the shirt he had on when he left with last night. God for bid, he's not wearing  _any_ of the clothes he had on last night. He  _is_ wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but he doesn't even recognize the clothes as being stuff that he owns.

_Holy fucking shit._

Dean knows he didn't go home with anyone last night, because he knows he's in the hotel from the looks of the bathroom. He swallows hard, stepping slowly outside the bathroom, and into a much bigger hotel room than his. The bed is a king, not a queen, and there's a huge double screen door leading out to a balcony, which Dean doesn't have. There's a door opening in front of the bed, and Dean slowly creeps to it.

"Another fucking room?" Dean whispers, coming across a T.V. that is is fucking gigantic, complete with DVD player and sound station, both of which Dean does not have in his room. There's a black leather sofa and love-seat in front of it, complete with glass coffee table and everything. He turns to his right, and then comes to a complete halt.

_Oh my fucking GOD._

"Good morning, Dean. I hope I didn't wake you."

Dean's jaw drops as he stares at Castiel, behind a kitchen counter,  _shirtless,_ and making breakfast. Dean parts his mouth, but there is nothing on this Earth that he can say right now because the air has been completely sucked out of him.

Cas steps out from behind the counter, so Dean has a  _full view._ And Dean's almost 100% positive that he forgets how to breathe, because Castiel  _definitely_ works out. There's not an ounce of fat on the guys body, just full, pure, muscle. Not like carved and photoshopped abs, but definitely muscular enough. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that are a little too big for him, and they fall ever so slightly that they're resting on the points of his hipbones, just enough that Dean can see the "V" of his hips.

Dean's eyes fall across his body and he tries to pull them back up to meet Castiel's eyes, but its nearly impossible. He's finally able to gather enough willpower to lock his eyes back up Castiel's.

Dean grips his stomach, a sudden strange feeling twists around and he debates whether to run to the bathroom or not incase he might be sick again. But he realizes, he doesn't feel sick,  _at all._ He knows this feeling. He's felt it all too much. He moves his hands from his stomach down slowly and casually, palming himself over his basketball shorts, and he freezes.

Dean's  _hard._

Dean's  _horny._

He swallows, scared that Cas might look down and realize his  _situation._ Dean's eyes find Castiel's again, and  _thank god,_ he doesn't notice at all. He crosses his legs a little, pulling the t-shirt down a little bit in attempt to cover the slight bulge in his pants.

"Why am I-why are you _—_ " Dean stutters, gesturing to himself, then to Castiel. Castiel's smiling brightly and it's making Dean's heart flutter.

"Why are you here?" Castiel says, finishing for him. He crosses his arms over his chest and Dean's almost a little disappointed at the loss of vision.

_No! Stop! He's a fucking guy! C'mon Winchester, you're not gay! Think of boobs!_

Dean manages to only nod. Castiel walks by him and over to his dresser as he pulls out a plain black t-shirt and slings it over his body. "Sorry," He groans, "I wasn't expecting you to wake up for a while. I meant to put the shirt on a while ago, but you didn't appear to be waking up anytime soon, so..." He says as he shrugs his shoulders.

Dean furrows his brow, because that doesn't answer his question about why the hell he's in Castiel's room. Castiel walks by him again, returns to the kitchen and turns off the stove. He takes pancakes off the pan and slides them onto a plate before adding a dab of butter, syrup, and some cut up strawberries. Castiel smiles at Dean as he puts the plate on the counter.

"I made breakfast if you want some." He says.

Now that everything's out of his stomach and he feels a little bit better despite the mild headache, Dean is hungry, and he's not going to pass up free food when it's blatantly sitting right there in front of him. He bites his tongue, walks over to the counter and sits in a wooden stool and pulls the plate in front of him.

Thankfully, Dean's  _situation_  has dimmed down enough that he can sit down normally without having to worry.

Castiel is still smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

Dean looks up at him with a mouthful of pancakes. "Fine." He mutters.

"Are you sure?" Castiel groans apprehensively, "You were rather ill last night."

Dean chews his food slowly. Castiel is staring at him with this odd look that makes Dean's chest feel _weird._ Castiel's eyes are making it hard for him to swallow his food, and when he does, there's this really big lump in his throat.

Dean's hands start to sweat again. "I don't remember last night too well." He says, and then realizes that was a really bad idea because he knows Castiel is going to tell him what happened, and Dean really doesn't need to hear about how he probably made a fool of himself.

Castiel laughs. "Well you were quite intoxicated, I can tell you that. Uh, a lovely girl brought you here, told me that you asked her to bring you to  _my_ room."

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. Why did I say Cas' room? Fuck!_

"I, uh-I," Dean falters, but there's really no excuse he can come up with fast enough to get him through that one. He said Cas' room because it was the only thing he could remember, and if Dean told Castiel that...

"It's alright, Dean. I didn't mind at all. I'm glad you're alright."

Dean swallows. He feels like  _shit._ Castiel took him in, took care of him when he didn't deserve to be taken care of. What Dean said to Castiel last night, was  _not_ okay. Dean had blamed Cas for everything, even when the only person to blame was himself. And he feels like fucking  _shit._

Dean can't even bring himself to apologize. Because he's  _scared._ He's  _terrified._

"Yes, uh, thank you, Cas." Is all Dean manages to mutter out.

Cas nods. It's silent for a while, and Dean tries to eat but his appetite is slowly fading and all he feels is this nervous hole being carved in the center of his chest.

"How does your face feel?"

Dean looks up from his plate and meets those damn eyes of his again. He laughs, "Pretty bad, huh?"

Cas returns the gesture as he walks past Dean and sits in the stool beside him. "No. I'd say it's a step up, to be fairly honest." He smiles.

Dean laughs and throws his head back as he grabs his stomach. "Oh thank God. I guess I can cancel my appointment with my plastic surgeon."

Cas giggles, and Dean just watches as his nose crinkles and his gums peak out from his mouth, and there's this one moment where he can feel everything else just disappear completely, and it's just him and Castiel. Cas leans into him, his eyes fixing sharply on the gash right above his eyebrow. His thumb brushes against it, and Dean feels a small sting when Cas' skin touches his.

He's _really close_. Like, _uncomfortably_ close. Dean should be freaking out, telling him to back the fuck off. But, he's not.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Dean." Castiel whispers, and Dean can smell hot breath lingering on his neck that smells like fresh spearmint toothpaste and coffee.

_Tell him to back off, Dean! Why aren't you telling him to get away?_

There's suddenly a loud blaring bang at the door, and Cas jumps and pulls his hand away from Dean's face.

Cas clears his throat and looks at the silver watch on his wrist. "Shit, he's early."

Dean swallows.

_He?_

"Who's early?" Dean asks, standing from his stool.

Cas opens the door which is adjacent to the kitchen, and some little, pudgy looking guy barges right past him and into the room.

"Oh boy, Cassie, you have really out done yourself with this place." He says, his eyes wandering aimlessly around the room. His eyes land on Dean and he grins almost as big as the fucking Cheshire Cat _._ "And who's this? Cas, did you buy yourself _another_   _Abercrombie_  model?"

Dean narrows his brows and he parts his mouth. "What?"

Castiel steps out from behind the guy, who's still grinning widely at Dean, making him uncomfortable. "Dean, this is my brother, Gabriel Milton. Gabe, this is my friend, Dean Winchester."

Dean lurks at the word ' _friend'._

Gabriel steps forward and reaches his hand out, "Good to meet ya, Dean-o. Damn, nice shiner there, bud."

Dean's almost reluctant to take it, because holy  _shit,_ he thinks this guy has lost every single one of his fucking marbles. Just the way his face is built makes him looks all kinds of crazy, and the way he's talking to Dean isn't really making him seem less insane. But, for Castiel's sake, Dean reaches his hand out and shakes it. "Bar fight."

Gabriel is still grinning at him. "Wish I saw it. Call me Gabe." He says with a laugh, eying Dean's bruise.

Dean nods. It's oddly weird for Dean, to start meeting Cas' family. It's not like it was planned, but still, it feels compellingly strange, and the way Gabe is staring at him like he's hiding something makes Dean feel like he just needs to run as far away from the hotel as possible.

"I didn't expect you this early. I still have to change into my suit." Cas says, walking over to the small closest and pulling out a black suit and blue tie. Dean still has no idea what's going on, and he's lost all his appetite, so he just stands by the counter with a blank expression on his face, trying to find any excuse to get him the hell out of the hotel room.

Castiel eyes Dean and picks up on his confusion, "Oh gosh, my apologies, Dean. I have to go to a meeting in about an hour. I sent your clothes down to the laundry mat on the first floor if you need to pick them up. You're welcome to stay here after I leave, if you'd like."

Dean instantly shakes his head.

_Oh, no no no no no no no. No way._

If that isn't another  _invite,_ Dean doesn't know what is. He's already having a hard time controlling himself around Cas, and the  _last_ thing he needs is another reason to stay in the room. If he doesn't get out of there soon, he knows he won't ever leave.

Cas nods and Gabriel chuckles.

"Sorry," Dean adds cautiously, "I just need to get home and call my brother. Check up on plans and stuff."

Gabe peeks at this, his eyebrows raise as he tilts his head. "Brother, huh?"

"Knock it off, Gabe." Cas butts in, his voice low and serious. Gabe makes a  _tsk_ sound and smirks at Dean.

Dean grins. He can pick up a hint when it's blatantly stated right in front of him. Alright, Gabriel Milton was gay, so what?

_Does that make Cas gay?_

Dean shakes his head.  _Why do you care? Stop. You don't care. You don't give a shit, Dean. You don't._

The pancakes in his stomach suddenly aren't sitting so well, and Dean knows he needs to get out of that hotel room. And  _fast._

"C'mon, Cassie!" Gabe pouts, watching Castiel sling the tan trench coat over his arms, "I've got Baby running."

Castiel huffs. "Why on earth would you have the Impala running? You're wasting gas, you idiot!"

"Hey, I thought we'd been in 'n out. I didn't expect Mr. Model Man over here, alright?" Gabe gestures to Dean and gives him a wink.

Dean blushes and laughs. "Wait, an Impala? Like _—_ "

"A 1967 Chevy," Castiel interrupts, trench coat hung over his shoulders and briefcase tightly in hand. "You a fan of classic cars?"

"Hell yes!"

"You can come see Her, she doesn't bite," Gabe smirks, opening the door and walking out into the hallway. Dean smiles and follows him almost instantly.

"I used to have a 1965 Mustang Fastback. Cherry red, ugh-She was  _gorgeous._ " Dean remarks as he's walking down the carpet covered floor, forgetting completely that he has no shoes on. "But my Dad sold it."

Castiel pats him on the back. "I'm sorry to hear that." He says. His arm falls and it's now brushing along Dean's exposed skin, and Dean wishes that Cas had the trench coat off so he could feel Castiel's arm, instead of the thick cloth.

Dean nods at him, and suddenly feels a little uncomfortable standing in the tight elevator next to Cas, where Dean's standing so close he can smell this strange mix of syrup and cologne lingering off him. It's weird, but Dean kinda  _likes it._

Being with Cas was all kinda weird, but Dean  _likes it._

The elevator shakes a little and the light flickers, causing all three men to jolt and shake, but it still keeps moving down to the lobby.

"Shit, thought it was gonna break down for a second." Dean scoffs, and Gabe starts laughing.

Gabe leans in from behind Dean. "It'd get cold in here, we'd all have to huddle to keep warm. I've heard it's warmer if you take your clothes off _—_ "

Cas whacks him in the stomach and gives him a solid bitch-face before he turns to Dean. "Please excuse my brother, he hasn't really moved on past his  _horny teenage boy_ stage."

Gabe laughs at them when the elevator doors open. "And I never really will Cassie."

Castiel rolls his eyes as he walks out the door, a gust of wind blowing behind him that leaves a smack of syrup and cologne on Dean's face. Gabe pushes past him, running out the door and into the warm California weather and into the parking lot.

Dean lays his eyes on the car. "Holy. Fucking.  _Shit._ "

She's sleek black, shiny and in perfect mint condition with a shimmering silver bumper. Dean walks around the side, running his fingers over the humming top and onto the curve of her side, peering into the silky white leather seats. She's the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen, and it's almost surprising because Dean could've sworn he's almost a little  _into_ the car itself.

"She's a beaut, isn't she?" Gabe asks, patting the hood.

Dean nods. "She's stunning."

"Maybe you can take 'er for a ride one of these days. I don't mind."

"Of course you don't mind, Gabe," Cas scoffs as he trudges into the passengers seat, "You only take the car out for business trips and long rides. You never use 'er otherwise."

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate a  _babe_ when I see one!"

Dean smiles. A  _babe_ was right. This damn car was almost as gorgeous as Castiel's eyes.  _Almost,_ but not quite there yet.

Gabe pats him on the shoulder. "Alright Dean-o, we gotta hit the road. I hope I see you soon, and if I do, mind bringing that brother of yours?" He smirks, brushing past Dean and sliding into the front seat.

Dean leans down. "He's getting married, dude. I would but _—_ "

"I like a good challenge." Gabe laughs, giving Dean a once over before turning to Castiel. "Cassie likes a challenge too, don't 'cha, bro?"

Castiel blushes,  _massively,_ before he whacks Gabe in the stomach again. "We're late, dumbass!"

"Catch ya later, Dean!" Gabe shouts, the engine humming loudly as he drives away. Dean sees Cas waving to him through the window, and he waves back with a big, wide grin on his face.

Castiel likes challenges.

And Dean is one  _hell_ of a challenge.

* * *

_"Are the hotel rooms nice?"_

"Yeah, they're not bad. There's a great view of the beach from my window."

_"Oh that sounds beautiful."_

"Yeah, I guess so."

_"So, you said the wedding was postponed 'til when?"_

"Thursday."

_"That's crazy, Dean. Just ridiculous!"_

"Lisa, I know. Trust me, I know. But Sam has offered to pay for the extra days."

_"And what about Ben?"_

"What  _about_  him?"

_"He's your responsibility, Dean."_

"Don't start this with me again. He's not mine to begin with-"

_"He's yours now!"_

"Lisa, I'm not doing this right now, okay? I've had a long day, I'm tired, and I want to relax. Can we just not fight? For once?"

_"Fine. You're right. It's late over here, and I should be getting to bed. Goodnight, Dean. I'll talk to you later."_

"Okay. Night."

Dean hangs up, sits on the bed and sighs. Conversations like that don't phase him, because that's what a normal conversation is between them. Dean turns on the T.V. and even laughs a little, because Lisa was even being slightly nicer to him. He's used to it by now; the constant bickering like an old married couple and the occasional sleeping-on-the-couch nights.

It even took a few days to convince Lisa to stay home for the wedding and take care of Ben, even when he didn't need any  _being taken care of._ Thanks to Ben's lame excuses, Lisa caved in and stayed home and let Dean go to the wedding by himself. Sam and Ruby were perfectly okay with that, considering they both hate Lisa down to her very core; which is surprising because Lisa being a she-devil is one thing that Ruby and Dean can agree on.  _  
_

Dean lays back on the bed, his back propped up on a few pillows. He rubs his bare stomach when it begins to growl, and he realizes the only thing he's eaten all day is the little chunk of strawberry pancakes that Castiel made him, but that was over 6 hours ago, and now it's 5 o'clock in the afternoon and his stomach is practically screaming at him to get some food. He doesn't want to eat alone, and he starts wondering if it would be okay to ask Cas to dinner...

"No," Dean sighs, pulling himself up to his feet. "Nah, that's weird...is it weird? It's just two friends getting a burger or something, that's not classified as weird, right? No, no, definitely not."

Dean throws a red and brown plaid shirt over his gray t-shirt and starts to shimmy a pair of ratty jeans on. He has the jeans halfway up his legs when he stops. "Wait, why are you talking to yourself?" He whispers, his eyebrows creasing.

A warm feeling spreads across his stomach again, and he recognizes it as the feeling he gets when he's around  _Cas._ Castiel is making him do all sorts of weird things that his body doesn't recognize, and he has no idea to react to it other than to deny himself of his feelings.

And his feelings, just keep getting  _stronger_ and  _stronger._ _  
_

He's not denying them anymore, because now he's damn well positive that he  _is_ attracted to Castiel, and he's damn well positive that he's never experienced  _this_ level of attraction to anyone else.

With that, Dean's now decided to go next door and ask Castiel Milton to dinner.

_Just as friends...nothing more...don't get your hopes up..._

Dean huffs and makes his way to the door and grabs the doorknob before he pauses again. "Cologne." He says flatly before he runs over to his suitcase and rips the clothes apart for the little bottle in his bag, "Yeah, nothing wrong with smelling good, right? No, I just don't want to smell bad. Yeah, that's it. I just don't want to smell bad."

He grins when he finds what he's looking for, and then sprays a  _little_ more than a decent amount on himself, rubbing the incense in on his neck. Dean sighs satisfyingly, and then makes his way to the door again. His hands grips the knob, but he stops,  _again._

"Hair." He groans, skipping to the bathroom and checking his hair in the mirror. He decides it's not up to it's full potential, so he grabs the hair gel and squirts a  _little_ more than a decent amount on his hand before he runs it through his hair, making sure the front strands stick up in a way that he knows will usually make the girls fall head over heels, and he wonders if it'll have the same affect on guys.

He grimaces at the bruises and cuts still around him, and he prays and prays that Castiel won't mind.

"Will this even work on him? Does he even pay attention to my hair?"

Dean shakes his head. He knows he's getting too invested in this, and now he's feeling like a teenage girl getting ready for her first date.

Once he's satisfied with his hair, he talks himself into licking up a little bit of toothpaste, just because, why not?

He finally enables himself to walk through the door and out into the hall, and now he's standing outside Castiel's room like a weird stalker. His heart's pounding against his ribs, and he hopes he put on enough cologne because he can feel himself already begin to sweat.

_Alright, Winchester. Just. Do. It. What's the worst he can say?_

Dean swallows.  _No. He can say **no.**_

And he doesn't even realize it, but his hand pounds on the door, hesitant and quick. And now he waits.

Ten seconds goes by, and his hearts still pounding, but he's still breathing.

Twenty seconds, and now it's getting harder to breathe and the air becomes a lot thicker than Dean can remember.

Thirty seconds, and now Dean's positive he's sweat all of the cologne off of his body.

And now he's lost count of how long its been, or how long he's stopped breathing, or how long he has left in his life because he's sure it's about to end at any moment now.

"No, he's just still at work, right?" Dean shakes his head and begins walking down the hall. "Yeah, yeah he's the CEO of a company, of course he's still working." He whispers. Dean wipes his palms on his shirt, because they're gross and sweaty and practically  _shaking._

He steps into the elevator, and the music is annoyingly loud and obnoxious, but it somewhat soothes him a little. The ride is slow, and the music is crackling and cutting off vigorously. And then the elevator shakes, just like before when he was with Gabe and Castiel. The music cuts off, and Dean finishes the ride with complete discomfort. The doors hesitate to creak open, and when they finally do, whatever breath is left in Dean's lungs, is now  _gone._

"Dean! Unexpected surprise!"

Dean's jaw gapes open. He  _did not_ see this one coming. "Cas, wow, uh-hey."

Castiel smiles brightly at him, and Dean notices that the bags under his eyes have sunken deeper into his skin. Dean can tell Castiel is tired and exhausted, but he's happy to see that Castiel can smile through it. 

"Headed somewhere?" Castiel asks as he steps into the elevator with his briefcase.

_Shit._

Dean parts his mouth, but he can't come up with an answer fast enough, and he blurts out the first thing on his mind, which substantially, is an  _awful_ idea on Dean's part.

"You wanna go grab something to eat?" Dean shouts, and then bites the inside of his cheek after.

_Shit shit shit!_

Cas laughs and stares at him for a few seconds. "I'd like that. Would you mind if I went to bring my bag upstairs first?"

Dean raises his eyebrows.  _He said yes, holy shit, he said yes!_ Dean thinks, and his smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. "Yeah sure, f'course."

Cas smiles and Dean steps back into the elevator. It's silent on the way up and a little awkward, but Dean's a little glad because it gives him time to cool down. The elevator's still a little shaky and the doors resist to open again, but they do eventually and Cas runs out.

"I'll be back in a few moments, I promise!" Cas yells to him as he's running down the hall, his trench coat flapping behind him.

Dean stands outside the elevator doors as he watches Castiel fumble with his hotel key before he steps inside. Dean laughs at him, and then smiles when Castiel is inside.

He likes Castiel.

And that's a problem.

A few minutes later, Castiel comes back out, and Dean's jaw  _drops._

Castiel Milton does not look like the same guy Dean just saw five minutes ago. The Castiel Milton that Dean saw before had his hair slicked back and combed neatly, his eyes tired and wasted with the creases in his eyes, his tie slightly askew against his black suit, and his long raggedy trench coat that dangled too far down his hands.

Now, Castiel Milton has his hair mussed in all different directions, a grey hoodie on that was a little too big for him with a Kansas Jayhawks logo on the front, and old, patchy worn out jeans. And his eyes, his eyes were sparkling more than Dean had ever seen him, the circles around his eyes seem to have disappeared. Castiel Milton, looked down-right  _hot._

"Sorry," He says when he comes towards Dean, "I hope you don't mind I dressed down."

Dean shakes his head. "Oh, no, not at all. It looks really uh-nice. Well I mean, the clothes-their, uh-their fine, I didn't mean _—_ " Dean cuts himself off.

_Smooth like butter, Winchester._

Castiel laughs at him as he passes by, leaving a whiff of cologne against his nose. "It's alright, Dean. I knew what you meant."

Dean nods and bites his tongue. No, Castiel didn't know what Dean meant. Not at  _all._

They step into the elevator, and Castiel takes a deep breath. "So where we going? Any ideas?"

Dean scoffs. He has  _no idea_ where to go, mainly because he has no idea where  _Castiel_ would want to go. Dean's fine with a nice, big bacon cheeseburger and a plate of fries but Castiel comes across as a guy who likes expensive meals, and Dean  _cannot_ afford that right now.

Dean sighs. "Well, uh-um, I don't know, uh-maybe _—_ "

Cas butts in. "I could just go for a burger or something."

Dean feels his heart skip a beat. If he wasn't sure of his feelings towards Castiel before, he is now, because that just got him a solid level up. Dean smirks, "Sounds good to me."

The elevator doors close, and they begin to move down slowly. The music crackles again, until it completely shuts off.

"Damn," Castiel says with a giggle, "Such a nice hotel, you'd think the elevators would be _—_ "

Suddenly, there's a  _very loud bang,_ like something had just snapped, and the elevator completely  _stops._ The lights go off, and now the elevator is faintly lit, but Dean can see still Castiel well enough to see that he's  _panicking._

Dean looks around the elevator, and there's a small red blinking light on the third floor button. "What the _—_?"

"It appears we've stopped." Castiel groans deeply.

Dean lets out a heavy breath. "How'd you figure out that one, Sherlock?" He laughs.

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Just stating the obvious," He mutters, stepping in front of Dean to examine the button panel. He runs his fingers over the buttons until he finds one with a little phone on it. "I think this is it." He says dryly before he presses the button. There's a long pause, and then theres static coming from over their heads. Cas presses the button again and the static stops. "Well, shit."

Dean runs his fingers through his hair.  _This_ was the last outcome he expected from this, but somehow, in the grand scheme of things, he was kind've  _okay_ with it. "At least we can catch up," Dean laughs. He bends over and sits down on the cold floor of the elevator against the wall and watches as the confusion on Castiel's face grows.

"What're you doing?" Cas asks as he looks down at him with his brows furrowed.

Dean shrugs. "Who knows how long we'll be in here? Why stand when you can sit."

Castiel shakes his head and laughs. "C'mon, there's bound to be an alarm going off or something, I mean, they can't just  _not_  realize this?"

Castiel is freaking out, and Dean can understand that, but he knows eventually that someone will notice the elevator is broken. "They'll notice, Cas. In the mean time, why don't you just pop a squat with me, huh?"

Castiel glares at him with a smirk. "Do you have a phone? Or something?"

Dean swallows. He  _does_ have his phone. It's in his back pocket.

_Don't you dare take that phone out, Winchester._

Dean tilts his head.  _This_ is his chance to get closer to Castiel, and alright yeah, he _is_  going to lie to him, but they would only be there for a little while, so, why the hell not?

"No, left it in the hotel room."

Castiel huffs. "Fuck!" He grunts, and then plops down on the ground on the other side of Dean, making the elevator shake.

"What?" Dean laughs, "Don't wanna be stuck in an elevator with a guy like me?"

Cas folds his legs together and looks up at him, cocking his head. "A guy like you? What do you mean?"

_A guy like me._

Dean clashes his teeth together. A guy like  _him._ And now he's reminded of what he had said to Castiel the day before, and how he'd pushed him and yelled at him for absolutely no reason at all but to just blame someone other than himself. Dean parts his mouth, but is suddenly blocked by his own breath. He wants to  _apologize,_ tell Cas that he's  _glad_ he'd met him.

"Nothing, nevermind." Dean says.

Cas grins a little. "Oh," He nods. Cas looks at him, his gaze switching from Dean's lips to his eyes. "How are you feeling? Better than this morning, I assume?"

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes. He'd forgotten how  _ugly_ he looks, and now he feels his face begin to heat up, and he knows he's turning red by the grin plastered against Castiel's face. "Better. I have a very high pain tolerance. Nothin' really hurts me too much."

"I guess I'm the opposite. One paper-cut and I'll be complaining for days." Cas laughs.

"Man," Dean says as he throws his hands up, "Paper-cuts, those fuckers."

Cas laughs, and Dean feels his heart pound when Cas' nose crinkles. Dean's staring at him, watching him laugh and giggle, and he just can't seem to look away, because he's actually  _beautiful._ Cas catches him staring, and his wide smile turns into an innocent grin as his face sinks into his sweatshirt.

Dean clears his throat, embarrassed for letting himself get caught. He comes up with the first thing that runs through his mind, "So, you ever been to California before?"

Cas' head comes out of his sweatshirt. "Yes, Gabriel, my other sister and I, we'd always drive down from our house in Kansas. We'd drive miles and miles, all the way down Route sixty-six, and we'd just have so much fun." Castiel smiles. He's grinning down at the ground, as if replaying the memories in his head.

"Did you take the Impala?"

Castiel breaks from the ground to lock eyes with Dean. "Of course. It's actually  _my_ car, but I gave it to Gabe when I moved to New York. Now he just uses it to drive across the country for business trips, instead of having to take a plane. Such a waste of a beautiful car."

Dean beams at him. He  _does_ like a guy with good taste. "So, you've been to all the parks and stuff right? Disneyland and Universal and whatever? Me and Sammy, we used to come all the time when I was in college. Love it there."

Castiel smiles brightly but shakes his head. "No, I've never been."

Dean's jaw drops. "What? Dude, you come to Cali a lot and you've never been to Disney? You serious, man?"

Castiel shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know! I've just never had the time, I guess."

Dean bites his cheek. He  _knows_ he shouldn't. Taking Castiel to Disney would waste a hell of a lot of money that Dean could use on something more important, but he just can't resist, and it slips from his mouth before he has a chance to change his mind. "I'm taking you to Disneyland. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Castiel palms his face in his hands. "Dean, no I couldn't, I have work and _—_ "

Dean holds his hands in front of him. "Excuse me? What did I just say? I don't give a  _flying fuck_ about your work shit, kay? I'm taking you to goddamn Disneyland, because that's where the fucking magic happens. And I'm  _not_ taking no for an answer."

Castiel's jaw drops before he bursts out into a laughing fit, so much he actually keels over a little against the floor, which makes Dean break into a laughing fit too, and soon the both of them are on the floor laughing hysterically for no reason at all. Dean holds his stomach, because it  _hurts_ from laughing too much. He stares at Castiel, bundled up on the floor and holding his face, a silky pink color smeared across his cheeks. His eyes are tightly shut, and Dean doesn't even realize he's moving closer until Castiel opens his eyes and sits up.

And Dean has no  _fucking_ idea why it comes out now, but it slips from his mouth before he's even registered the thought.

"I'm sorry for what I said to you last night, Cas. I didn't mean it at all. I was angry and I needed someone to blame and you were there, and I fucked up. I left my brother's ring that he gave me on the plane and I just, I snapped at you." Dean says, folding his legs together as he sits only a few feet away from Castiel now. Castiel looks at him, and the silky pink has now darkened into a deep red. His eyes are wide and glassy, and Dean thinks that Cas is about to cry from just the way he looks.

Castiel swallows, he looks sorry for Dean. "I'm sorry you lost something important to you, but really I assure you that it's alright _—_ "

"No, it's not." Dean butts in, and he moves closer to Castiel, "What I said to you wasn't alright. It was awful and I'm so fucking sorry. It wasn't even your fault."

Castiel nods and a symathetic frown grows on his face. "Dean, please, it's really okay. I know what it's like to lose something that has meaning. I can't imagine how important the ring must've been to you." 

Castiel is reassuring him, but Dean doesn't feel any better. In truth, Castiel had no idea that he was the _real reason_ Dean had left it. Castiel only thinks that Dean had only yelled at him in spite of anger. What would Castiel say if he really knew the truth? Castiel looks so innocent, so endearing, and his lips are only  _inches_ away now, and Dean doesn't realize he's moving closer until he feels hot breath on him. Castiel's eyes widen, his lips are parted open and quivering. Dean feels a deep, intense  _desire_ shoot through his belly, and he can't seem to take his eyes off Castiel's swollen pink lips. They're just  _waiting_  to be touched.

And Dean's getting closer..

And closer...

And _—_

**_"Hello? Is anyone in here?"_ **

Dean jumps, his whole body is sent flying backwards as he stares harshly at the speaker at the top of the elevator.

"Hello?" Dean yells. His heart's still pounding so much he feels like his ribs are going to break. He's breathing heavily, his hands shaking with every movement, "Ye-yes, we're, we're in here."

_**"Oh my, we are so awfully sorry. We have people fixing the elevator's at this very moment and we will be sending people down to get you. We are so sorry for the inconvenience, and we'd like to offer you a free night at the hotel for the nuisance."  
** _

"Uh-thanks." Dean mutters slowly.

He was  _about to kiss him._

Dean's mind spins, and he doesn't know whether he had a momentary doubt, or whether he'd actually  _wanted_ to kiss Castiel. He's come to terms with his attraction towards him, but this,  _this_ was a whole other step.  _This_ was cheating, cheating on Lisa, but somehow,  _he still wants to do it._

"It's late, Dean. Maybe we should just go back up to our rooms."

Dean looks up, and Castiel gapes away. He tilts his head, wishing that Cas would reunite his eyes with his own and save him the constant worry. "But it's not that late _—_ "

"I'm tired." Castiel cuts in, and he tangles his hands together and folds them in his lap.

Dean fucked up, and he knew it to. It was all disguised irony, and now he knows that Castiel doesn't feel the same way about Dean as Dean does for him.

And it's hurting him badly.

Now it's silent in the elevator, and Dean feels his head begin to throb against his skull. He tries to cover his face in his hands to hide his cheeks but there's this grey aura around him that won't seem to pass. He was stupid to ever think that a successful guy like Castiel Milton would ever like a _guy like him_ , and now Dean's caught himself in a bear trap, and the only way to break free won't be easy, and most definitely wont be  _painless._

Minutes that feel like hours pass by, until there's a small knock on the elevator door, followed by a strong voice.

"Hello?"

Dean's shoots his head up. "Yeah, we're in here."

There's a pause, and then a large bang, and soon the elevator doors fly open, a pair of firefighters standing before them. Somehow the fresh air isn't welcoming to Dean, and he feels like he's choking on sentimental regret.

The firefighter puts down the crow bar and reaches a hand out to Dean to help him up. "Are you two alright?" He says.

Dean nods, and then he turns to Cas and reaches his hand out, but all Castiel does is ignore it and push himself up.

"We're fine." Castiel exclaims as he pushes past the firefighters and Dean, before he turns the corner and disappears into the hallway. Dean watches him leave, eying the back of his messy head, wishing he could just run his fingers through it and hold Cas close to him.

But no, he's fucked that up too, and now Dean's positive he knows the true feeling of heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update next weekend! Let me know how you guys like it ~ :)


	4. Destination: Sexual Frustration

"Alright, Dean. What is it? C'mon, tell me. Is it the bar fight?"

"No."

Dean's eyes remain locked on the uneaten burger in front of him. He has no idea how long he's been off in his own little world, and he also can't seem to remember how long he's been at the diner, or even when he left the hotel. He just seemed to  _show up._

He's already had to lie to his brother and tell him that he had gone to the bar to meet up with an old friend and had just  _accidentally_  had one too many drinks.

Dean's finding himself falling into space a lot now, since what happened with Cas, and he doesn't choose to, his eyes just kinda get... _lost._ There's this feeling in the pit of his stomach that wont seem to go away, and now he's debating whether to just move in with his brother for the rest of the week, or ask to transfer hotel rooms.

_No, Dean. You're not a pussy. You're not._

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes finally decide to move, and now they're locked hard and solid on his brother's hazel, glassy one's. Sam's not an idiot, and Dean knows that, so he figures he might as well just  _tell him._

Dean hitches his breath.

_But what if he doesn't accept me?_

Since Dean's come to terms with himself, he can fully conclude that he's  _bi-curious._ Or at least, he  _thinks_  he is. He can accept that, but the question is, can Sam? Even just the thought of losing his brother is painful, and Dean doesn't know what he'd do if Sam  _left_ him, all because he likes a  _guy._

Sam huffs and puts his fork down. "Are you gonna say something, or just stare at me?"

_Just do it, Dean. Do it._

"Sam I'm bisexual."

The words come out of his mouth so fast, Dean himself can hardly understand it. He stops breathing. He can feel the muscles in his stomach freeze, and for the moment, he's  _petrified._

_Oh shit, what have I done._

He's surely fucked everything up even  _more_ now, if it is even remotely possible. He's lost his brothers ring, he's lost Cas, and now, he's most definitely lost Sam. It's hard to look at his brother, but Dean manages to take a quick glance at his face, and the expression on it is unreadable. Dean looks back at his burger, and starts to debate whether he should get up and just make a run for it or not.

He hears Sam laugh.

_Shit._

"Am I supposed to surprised?"

The feeling that hits Dean stomach is one that he's sure he's never felt before, because that was most definitely  _not_ the answer he was expecting.

"Huh?" Dean asks, his eyes now unable to look  _away_ from his brother's face.

Sam smirks and shakes his head, his dimples burying deep into the sides of his face. "Dean, c'mon—"

"What?!" Dean spits. 

_Surprised? Was he supposed to be **surprised**? _

"What the fuck do you mean  _'am I supposed to be surprised?_ '" Dean grumps, and Sam just continues to laugh, causing Dean to continue to furrow his brows even more, because he has no idea what the  _hell_ is going on. "I'm sorry, am I missing something here?"

Sam runs his fingers through his hair and scratches the back of his head. "I know, Dean. I mean, seriously, dude?"

"You know what?"

"That you're, gay...well I mean,  _bisexual_ _._ " Sam says, his eyes rolling.

Dean sucks in his cheeks. He can't tell whether he's mad at Sam, or completely dumbstruck. "Okay, please explain to me how you got the memo I was into dick before I did?"

"Oh god," Sam exclaims, and his head rolls back, sending his long hair whipping to the sides. Dean's brother just looks so... _composed,_ and Dean hasn't the slightest clue why. Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly, and his smile becomes so wide it's even a little creepy. "C'mon, remember? Chuck Shurley?"

_Shit._

Oh, Chuck Shurley. How could Dean forget?

Two years ago was a long time, but Dean can remember it like it was just yesterday.

Dean had gone to a book signing to meet the infamous Chuck Shurley, writer of one of his favorite book series. Dean had practically  _squealed_ the first time he'd laid his eyes on him; his light brown scruff, those pale blue eyes and firm shoulders that Dean just couldn't keep his eyes away from. Chuck hadn't acknowledged him in the slightest when he'd signed the book, but Sam had made it a goal of his to remind Dean  _constantly_ about how flustered he'd gotten around the guy, but Dean ignored it and said that it was just " _him being a fan"._

Dean denied any feelings or attraction towards the guy, but now that Dean  _knows_ he's bisexual, he knows for a fact that he'd  _definitely_ fuck the shit out of Chuck Shurley if he had the chance.

"And do I even have to mention Doctor Sexy?"

Dean slaps his hand on the diner table, making the plates and glasses shake. "You leave my soap opera's out of this," Dean says, holding a sturdy, pointed finger in front of Sam's face, " _Especially_ Doctor Sexy!"

Sam makes a  _tsk_ noise and shakes his head.

"It's a guilty pleasure!" Dean shouts, and Sam laughs even more.

Leave it to Sam to know for a fact that Dean liked guys before Dean even knew it himself.

Sam's laughing dims down, and his eyes land softly on Dean's. "Dean, I don't care. Straight, gay, bisexual, I don't care. You're my brother and I love you."

Dean rolls his eyes at his sly brother, but he can't help feeling completely  _relieved._ It's Sam, for Christ sake, and now that Dean knows Sam's okay with it, he can't help but laugh at himself for his strain in hesitance. Coming out to his brother had gone way easier than Dean expected, but there's still one more thing Dean has to fess up to.

And if coming out wasn't the hard part,  _this_  part definitely is.

"His name is Castiel." Dean says quickly, his lips rolling into a thin line.

Sam tilts his head, one eyebrow raising up farther than the other. "Huh?"

"Castiel. His name is Castiel Milton." Dean repeats. His lips have no filter whatsoever, and words just seem to be spilling out of his mouth on their own, crawling their way up his throat and scratching at his lips until they're set free.

Sam looks around the diner, his lips bowing into a disoriented demeanor. His lips part and his tongue licks across his bottom lip, and Dean can almost see the smoke coming out of his ears from thinking too hard. A few moments pass, and Sam's head jolts to Dean, his eyebrows raised and his jaw dropped.

Sam gasps. "You like someone!"

Dean claps and throws his hands up. "Bingo, Yahtzee, score one for Sam Winchester."

Sam laughs loudly, enough for some people in neighboring tables to shoot them a glance. Dean blushes, but Sam continues to laugh. "Oh my god, Deanie-weenie's got a little crushie-wushie?" Sam pouts his lips, mimicking the voice of a five year old boy, and  _god,_ if Dean wasn't in a public place he sure would've made Sam regret that one.  _  
_

"Dude!" Dean smacks his brothers arm, and Sam finally dims down, letting out a big, long, high pitched sigh.

"So tell me," Sam smiles, his face red and flustered from his laughing fit, "How'd you meet this rare creature?"

_Rare creature._

Dean nods, because Castiel Milton was sure one  _hell_ of a rare creature. Dean grabs a handful of fries from his plate and shoves it in his mouth, "Dude cut me off at security. Sat next to him on the plane, then he ended up setting up camp in the hotel room next to mine. Went from there, I guess." Dean says with a mouthful of fries, and Sam's expression goes from giggly and lively to down-right  _serious._

"What do you mean  _"It went from there"_?"

Sam has his eyebrows raised, and Dean gets that he's under the impression that him and Cas have  _done stuff._

_Oh jesus, I wish..._

"No, nothing like that." Dean remarks, and Sam shrugs his shoulders down, a disappointed look waving over his face, "I just-I don't know-I-I-tried to make a move and it didn't work out so well."

"Could just be shy."

Dean shakes his head. "Or, he could just be straight." Dean says, and he doesn't feel upset until he hears his own words, his appetite completely disintegrating like before, and now he wants nothing more than to just go home and sleep. Or,  _attempt_ to sleep.

Sam swallows and bites the inside of his cheek. "And, Lisa?" Sam asks, and Dean slowly rolls his eyes up to meet his brothers gaze, a strong harshness evading his eyes. "I mean, you know, um, I'd be totally cool if you cheat on Lisa. Damn witch, fucking—"

"Sam." Dean says sternly, his voice low and deep. His brother rolls his eyes and scoffs. It surprises Dean that every time Lisa comes up, Sam manages to just flat out  _bitch_ about the girl, and Dean knows why, but putting salt into an open wound hurts more and more each time.

Sam lets out a breath and purses his lips, giving Dean a once over before he smiles and leans in. "Fuck him." He whispers, his eyes squinting as he nods his head.

Dean smiles, because the thing is,  _he would._

"He wouldn't."

Sam leans back and grabs his utensil again, stuffing a forkful of salad into his mouth. "Hey, you never know, man." He says with his mouthful, and Dean shakes his head. Sam leans in again and swallows, "Do you think you'd be top or bottom? I feel like you'd totally be the bottom."

Dean swats his brothers arm, "Dude!" He shouts at him.

 _Bottom..._ Dean thinks, his stomach turning at the thought,  _there'd be a fucking **dick** in me..._

The thoughts have never even once crossed Dean's mind, and now that it has, it scares the living  _shit_ out of him. He doesn't know what it is, but just the thought of some guy having their junk thrusted balls deep in Dean's ass doesn't seem to great.  _But,_ having  _his_ junk balls deep in  _Cas'_ ass seems like a pretty awesome thought. It's weird, thinking about a guy like this, but for some reason Dean just can't seem to think of anything else. It's all Cas.

Cas.

Cas.

_Cas._

Just the thought of what his lips would taste like, the feeling of thin stubble against his tongue, his smell, his touch,  _his taste._ Everything from hair pulling, to ass smacking, to lip biting; Dean's imagined it all, and now he's finding himself  _addicted_ to the feeling Cas gives him, and he just fucking  _wants it._ He wants to hear the noises, the sounds he'd make Cas elict, he wants to lick every inch of his body, he wants to  _mark his territory._

Dean shakes his head and has to stop himself from letting his imagination go to far, because he can already feel his pants tightening a little. He looks up, and Sam's staring at him, his eyes squinted and beady.

"What?" Dean asks, his eyes trailing around the diner.

Sam  _tsks_ again. "Man, you gotta stop spacing out, dude."

"How long this time?"

Sam stands up from the booth. "Solid five minutes." He says, flicking his head to the door before he's making his leave.

Dean bites his lip until he tastes blood.

It just keeps getting  _worse_ and  _worse._

* * *

It's a loud ringing that breaks him from another one of his  _space-out sessions,_ and by the time Dean clicks back to Earth, the hotel is in view, and Sam is pulling up his brand new silver Cadillac in front of the hotel lobby doors.

And oh joy, Todd is already staring at Dean through the window and smiling.

Dean sits in the car and the engines hums as Sam puts it in park, pulling out his ringing phone and turning it off before he shifts to Dean with his firm and broad shoulders. "What? Too scared to walk up to your room now?" He huffs, and Dean glares at him and snarls. "C'mon Dean. You guys are adults, not sixteen year old teenagers in high school, okay?"

Dean swallows. He's acting like a  _teenager._ A damn, fucking, awkward as shit and naive  _teenager._ And for some reason, he just can't  _help it._ The way Cas is making him feel; making his heart beat so fast he thinks he might go into cardiac arrest, or the way he just feels so  _hot_ around him, like the room had just spontaneously increased in temperature by ten degrees. And he just can't  _help it._

And now comes the question Dean's been dreading and trying to avoid thinking about.

"What do I do if he doesn't want to talk to me? Doesn't want to be friends?"

Sam hitches a laugh. "All you want is a friendship, Dean?"

"Well, I'm not even sure we  _are_ friends, dude." Dean says, sucking in a breath of air. He feels a headache coming on, "Or at least, not anymore."

_Not anymore._

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose.

_Not any-fucking-more. Why? Oh, that's right, YOU screwed up, Winchester! You fucking idiot!_

Sam puts puts his big gigantor hand on Dean's shoulder and Dean flings it off. The last thing Dean needs right now is sympathy from others. He doesn't know why he hates it, he just does. He  _wants_ a drink, but considering how  _beautifully_ that went last time, he decides not to. He works out a solid plan: go back to the hotel room and binge on the  _Star Trek_ marathon that's happening tonight, order some room service, and maybe even jerk off to some busty asian beauties.  _  
_

Dean nods, unbuckling his seatbelt.

_Sounds like a pretty solid plan to me._

Dean opens the door, "See ya, Sammy." He breathes, and slams the door once he's out. He hears Sam mumble something, but frankly Dean doesn't really give a flying fuck and he figures he'll just text him later.

He struts to the door, reminding himself over and over again about his  _plan._

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

He strides to the door, and he sees Todd and flashes him a wide smile. "Hiya, Todd!"

Todd grins, and his mustache twitches. "Evening, Sir!" He yells proudly, and Dean laughs because he's probably the only guy apart from those fancy-ass jerks who don't even give Todd a second glance.

_Start Trek. Food. Porn._

Next comes Tessa, her lips curling and puffing when her eyes look up and see Dean eagerly and hastily making his way toward the courtyard.

"Hiya, Tessa!" He yells, and Tessa's eyebrows practically shoot off her head.

She puffs her chest, showing off what she's got, even though she doesn't have that much. "Good evening, Dean!" She smiles, "I take it you're in a good mood tonight!"

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

"Sure am, Tess." Dean winks, and Tessa blushes, her eyes falling down as she bites her lip. Dean scoffs.

 _It's just too easy sometimes._ He thinks, and he's smiling when the doors slide open to the courtyard, the palm trees just hiding the vibrant orange sunset, and he can hear the splashes of kids playing in the pool, and he can smell the fresh ocean air.

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

He's still grinning when he reaches the building across the courtyard, and walks down the long hallway until he sees the  _elevator._

Dean shakes his head, his lips pouting out. "Nope. Doesn't bother me. I don't care. And you know what? I don't care that I don't care." He says to himself, taking a deep breath before he presses the button, and the doors open without hesitation this time, taking him right up to the fourth floor without any problems whatsoever.

The doors open, and he takes a step, then stops.

It's like there's this invisible barrier, and his eyes just slowly trail over to the floor...to the spot where Cas was sitting in his grey hoodie, all warm and snug with his old ratted jeans and hair so messy it could've been defined as  _total_ sex-hair.

Dean shuts his eyes with a heavy breath and forces himself out of the elevator. He starts his way down the hall, "Star Trek. Food. Porn." He reminds himself, whisperin under his breath as his feet struggle to carry him to the room. "Star Trek. Food. Porn. Star Trek. Food—"

_Oh fucking shit._

"Dean-o!"

"Gabe," Dean says slowly, his head whipping around to make sure Castiel is nowhere in sight, and thank  _God_ he isn't, "What are you, uh, doin' here, man?"

Gabe shrugs, and Dean can't help but laugh at how the guy just reminds him of a little troll. "Eh, you know, visiting the bro. Work stuff, maybe a little orgy here and there, same ol', same ol'."

_Wait, is he serious?_

Cas having an orgy was  _quite_ the image. And Dean grimaces, because there was no way he could tell if this guy was serious or not. "Wait—"

Gabe hits his shoulder, "Chillax, bro. I'm fucking with you." Gabe laughs, and Dean sighs in relief.

_No, I'm not jealous. I'm not. Star Trek, and uh-uh-what else was it? Wait no maybe it was—_

"You should go in and talk to him."

Dean's eyes widen. "Oh, uh-I-I don't know if that's such a good—" Dean chokes on his own breath, because  _Gabe's already knocking on Cas' door._ His hand shoots up to grab Gabe's arm, "Wait, no, Gabe!"

And then Gabe  _yells._ "Cassie! Open up! Male strippers are here!"

_Run._

There's about a billion things that are screaming at his head right now, and the loudest one of them all is telling him to  _run_. To just book it down the hall and get the hell away from there, and still, for some reason, he  _won't move._ His feet remain stuck to the carpet, watching, waiting for that door to open.

And it does.

"Gabe I—" Cas eyes Dean, and smiles. "Oh hello, Dean."

_Hello, Dean?_

Dean gives him a once over, soaking in Cas' appearance like he's the Sun. "Hey, Cas." He says soothly, and his eyes fall to Cas' black v-neck that hugs him in all the right places, outlining the strains of his biceps and chest, and the grey sweatpants that are a little too big for him, which Dean recognize as the ones Cas had on the morning he woke up in his room.

Castiel looks... _fine._ Totally, completely, fine. As if nothing happened at all. Dean wonders if maybe Cas just has the outstanding ability to keep his cool on the outside when he's screaming on the inside, because Dean sure as hell knows _he's_ showing on the outside. He doesn't know how long he's been standing there, and Dean's just unable to look away from Cas. His eyes; those  _damn_ eyes that just keep making Dean want him more.

Gabe pushes Dean forward a little. "Well, I'm leaving. Have fun you two!" He says, and then he's gone, faint giggling trailing behind him as he body bounces away.

"How are you, Dean?"

Castiel's voice is booming with resonance, and all Dean can think about is the noises Castiel would make if he were to pound him, just fuck the  _shit_ out of the dude, the noises he would make when he came...

Dean swallows. "Uh, fine. Um, yourself?"

Cas nods, "I'm great. Just about to go binge on the Star Trek marathon tonight."

"Huh," Dean laughs, tilting his head, "Me too!"

_Dude likes Star Trek, fucking awesome._

Castiel's eyes widen, and Dean notices a small pink color rise in his cheeks. Castiel run's his hand through his hair and scratches the back of his head, his finger's messing up his dark hair just enough to entice. "Care to join me? I was thinking of ordering Chinese, if you're hungry."

Dean thinks his hearts beating so fast it might break through his ribs. His lips part into a warm smile, "Starving." Dean says, and then he's following Castiel into his hotel room again. And the dude wasn't kidding, Castiel already has Star Trek playing on the T.V., and there's a menu pamphlet open on the coffee table in front of the couch for the Chinese place.

"Order anything you'd like," Castiel says, plopping down on the sofa in front of the giant flat screen T.V.

Dean shakes his head, "I'll pay for it Cas, it's really no big deal—"

"No please, I insist." Castiel says with a smile, "Gabe left his wallet here."

Dean breaks into a laugh, his eyes shutting tightly, 'Well in that case, let's get one of everything!"

Cas giggles, and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket before he dials the number. "So, one of everything?"

Dean laughs, "No, Cas. Just Lo Mein for me, thanks." He giggles, and Castiel shrugs.

He starts ordering, and Dean plops down on the couch next to him, listening to the deep tone of Castiel's voice, watching his lips move softly, his tongue swiping out occasionally to brush the bottom of his lip, watching them curl and curve against his skin. Dean wants them. He wants them  _bad._ It's like Lisa is only a memory in the past, and she means _nothing_ to him anymore, and he just wants something new, exciting,  _different._ But he _can't._

Castiel hangs up, "They said about thirty minutes. That okay?" He says, bringing his legs up and crossing them on the black leather couch.

Dean smiles. "Sounds good."

It's the longest thirty minutes of Dean's life. Castiel is quiet, but when he does talk, he's funny, and makes Dean smile almost every time. There are instances that Dean will just stare at him and he won't even realize it until Castiel stares back, holding his gaze before his eyes gape away, and Dean is left with nothing but a red face and a beating heart.

Dean wants and needs Castiel so bad it  _hurts,_ but he  _can't._ The only barrier, the only line keeping Dean from straight out grabbing Castiel's face and kissing him hard is fucking  _Lisa._

There had been moments when Dean had almost forgotten his loyalty to her; like when Castiel would shift in the couch and his knee would brush Dean's, or he would scratch and rub his neck and skin, or when he would laugh and he'd bite down on his tongue. Dean had to cross his legs so Castiel wouldn't notice a possible growing bulge in his pants.

When the food finally arrived, they pretty much ate in silence, with the occasional television comment or complaint. Sometimes Castiel would get  _way_ too much into the show, and start yelling things at the T.V., which almost made Dean choke on his Lo Mein every single time.

"What the fuck! Dammit, Picard! Why would you let those fuckers capture you? And you, Crusher! The hell were you thinkin', man?" Castiel yells, throwing his hands up and waving them around. He huffs and gets up, taking Dean's plate and his own and clearing the area for them before he plops back down on the sofa again, and now he's even  _closer_ to Dean then he was before, and Dean can smell the cologne radiating off his skin.

Castiel leans his head back against the couch and sighs. "This is aggravating. I'm not sure why I keep watching the show, it just upsets me every time I watch it." Castiel laughs, grabbing the remote from the table. "Scary movie?"

Dean laughs and runs his fingers through his hair. "Okay, you choose."

Castiel flips through the movie selection for a while, and finally decides on  _The Conjuring_ , which has Castiel jumping in his seat not more than two minutes into the movie. It doesn't scare Dean at all, but the fear of accidentally popping a boner mid-movie does.

Castiel jumps again, inadvertently grabbing Dean's wrist and squeezing tightly. "I did not expect that," He says, his fingers peeling of Dean's skin slowly. It's hard to ignore the way Castiel's fingers trail across Dean's skin, and Dean's finding himself unable to stop from leaning in a little bit, and now his thigh is pressed firmly up against Castiel's.

Dean can feel it growing, the tension in his stomach, and Castiel grabs his shoulder this time, so hard Dean's positive it'll most certainly leave a red hand-print tattooed on his skin. "Sorry for gripping you so tight," Castiel says quietly in embarassment, his hands sliding down Dean's arm.

Dean shakes his head. "No, Cas, it's alright. I don't mind." He grins with a smile, and Castiel smiles back, wrapping his arm around Dean's and taking shelter behind it. Dean swallows, because it's hard  _not_ to get a hard-on right now. Cas is  _almost_ pressed against him, and he's gripping Dean's arm tightly against his chest.

_Do it, Dean. Pretend it's Lisa, okay? You can do this._

"Here," Dean says, his voice shaky and nervous as he unhinges his arm from Castiel's grasp, hooking it around Castiel's shoulder and pulling him close and pressed tightly into Dean's side, "Better?"

_Holy fucking shit._

Castiel nods slowly, and Dean feels Castiel's rapid heartbeat against his side when he presses into him. "Are you sure, Dean?"

"Yeah, why not? You're terrified, Cas." Dean smiles, and Castiel hides his head down against Dean shoulder in embarrassment. He fervently grabs Dean's grey t-shirt, balling it up in his fists when something pops out, and Dean doesn't mean to, he  _really_ doesn't mean to, but he rubs Castiel's shoulder, his thumb circling shapes around the skin. And Castiel is  _okay_ with it.

They're  _cuddling._

And Castiel is  _o-fucking-kay_ with it.

Big jump now, and Castiel heads for Dean's knee this time, not squeezing hard, but just  _holding_  it. Dean looks down at Castiel's hair, and he can't see Cas' face, and Cas cant see Dean's face, which is probably a good thing, because one look and Dean knows he's  _gone._

And then Cas moves his hand up.

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK._

Dean swallows so hard he almost chokes on his own spit. He has a  _boner._ He can see it  _clearly._ There is no hiding it, it's literally there, and Dean panics, and does the only thing that he thinks is  _right._

"Shit, Cas-I gotta go—" He says, and he stands up from the couch, causing Castiel to keel over a little. Castiel sits up, a sad and miserable look spreading across his face.

"Everything okay?" Castiel asks, pausing the movie and standing to meet Dean's level.

_He's gonna see. Holy shit he's gonna see._

What Dean doesn't know, is what Castiel would do if he  _saw._ Would he get on his knees and suck him off? Not very likely. Dean knows he'd tell him to get out, to never talk to him again and most likely end up switching hotel rooms. Castiel looks confused, but Dean puts on his best smile, "I forgot I had plans with Sam like wicked early tomorrow morning! I have to get up at the crack o' dawn." He says, bolting to the door and opening it.

Castiel follows him, rustling his fingers through his hair and yawning, a great big moan following.

_Fuck._

Dean hides his body behind the door, blocking his now  _completely_ hard cock from Castiel's view, and he's surprised Castiel hasn't seen it by now. It's hard enough to poke through  _jeans_ for Christ sake. Castiel doesn't look to phased, and he seems to believe Dean's bullshit story.

"Alright, Dean." Castiel yawns again. Another moan. A bigger boner. "Goodnight, Dean. I had fun tonight." He smiles, and he runs a thumb across his bottom lip and then swipes his tongue against it, and now Dean's fucking  _done._

"Night, Cas!" He yells, slamming the door and fumbling for the key-card in his pocket to get into his own room. He fumbles it open, and once he's inside he slams it closed and presses his back hard against it, out of breath and chest heaving.

_Holy fucking god._

His eyes snap open, and he bites his lip, trying his hardest to avoid the fact that he  _still_ has a fucking boner.

"Uncle Bobby naked, think of Uncle Bobby naked," Dean whispers, and then grimaces at the thought before he starts to feel that his pants are becoming looser and looser. He sighs in relief, kicking off his shoes and stripping himself down to just his boxers before he flops down on the bed.

This was one  _hell_ of a night, and Dean is relieved that Castiel didn't notice anything, but now Dean's more confused. He doesn't know if Castiel is  _straight_ or not. By his reaction in the elevator, Dean could conclude the guy was 100% into tits, but  _now,_ after  _that,_ he could've sworn Castiel is 100% into  _dick._

Dean squeezes his pillow. He  _really_ likes Castiel. The feeling he gets when he's around him, is just something unexplainable, something Dean can't control, and it's just  _growing._ He's never  _ever_ had feelings like this for a guy, let alone get a fucking boner around one.

Dean lets his breathing calm himself down, and he calms himself and tries to fall asleep with thoughts of Castiel. His eyes, midnight blue and glowing, like a butterflies wing, pulsing and sending waves of shocks down Dean's body the longer he stared. His lips, puffy and full, his tongue swiping out and inviting Dean in, soft pink and delicate. His  _voice._ Rough and rigid, smokey and strong but gentle and fragile, almost  _dangerous._

Dean can almost hear the noises Castiel would make if he could touch him, running his fingers down his neck and chest, touching every inch of his body, showing Castiel just how bad he wants him. The noises he'd make when Dean kissed him, bit his lips and neck, his stomach and thighs. Dean  _can hear it._

Dean's eyes snap open.

He can really  _hear it._

Dean sits up and shakes his head, his hand finding the back of his hair and scratching. He laughs to himself, because for a second there, he could have  _sworn_  Castiel _actually_ _moaned._ He could hear it clearly, like it was right next to him. Muffled, but clear.

He lays back down on his bed, reverting his thoughts back to his imagination and letting it run wild. He imagines touching him again, bending him over on his knees and kissing the nape of his neck, his shoulders and back, rubbing his cock in between Castiel and watching him squirm and  _moan._

He hears it again.

Muffled, but  _clear._

Dean sits up a second time, throwing his feet over the side of the bed and sitting up, his ears perking, because that was  _definitely_ not his imagination.

He hears it again.

 _Clearly_ this time. His feet force him to stand, and he walks slowly over to the wall of the room, his hands pressing flat against the wall before his ear follows, holding it to the wall, and  _listening._ There's a long silence, and Dean almost thinks he's going insane, and that maybe his imagination is just more wild than he thought, but then he hears a stifled whimper.

_"Dean..."_

Dean throws his body off the wall. "What the—!?"

_HOLY SHIT._

His jaw drops, because he without a doubt, heard that. That was Castiel alright. That was Castiel,  _moaning Dean's name._ Dean swallows when he feels his stomach drop, and now he's just standing in the middle of his room with his eyes wide and jaw fallen.

_"Yes, oh yes, Dean, please..."_

It's too fast to comprehend, but at the same time, Dean understands. He's jerked off before, and he knows that sometimes,  _names_ come out. Dean moves closer to the wall again, his hand pressing firmly up against it as he listens more.

_"Oh God, yes. Harder, please-please..."_

His body twinges, and he palms himself, because he's  _hard._ Really  _hard._ And he can't help it, but  _this isn't cheating._ He unbuttons his boxers and they fall to the floor at his feet, and he curls his fingers around his length. His cock is throbbing hard, and he clenches his teeth down when he moves his hand up, spreading pre-cum around the tip.

He lets out the quietest whimper, making sure that no one but  _himself_ can hear it. " _Cas_..." He breathes, his hand stroking back down to the base of his now fully hard cock and back up again, imagining Cas sprawled across the couch, one hand gripping the leather tightly as the other is wrapped hard and firm against his cock.

 _"Yes, yes, Dean, just like that, fuck me_   _ **please** ,"_

Dean lets out an unexpected whimper, the heat rises in his body when he hears his voice, low and needy and  _demanding._ Dean's lips tremble, and he strokes himself harder, the thought of Cas spreading his legs for him, letting Dean  _control him, use him._ His fist tightens around his cock as he keeps his hands moving, his jaw tightening the faster he moves up his length.

_"Fuck me, Dean, please, make me come...make me..."_

" _Cas._ Oh fuck, Cas. Gonna make you come, " Dean whispers to himself, his hand stopping the motion all together and letting his hips take over, thrusting his cock into his hand over and over, " _God_ , Cas. Gonna' fuck you so hard, baby." He groans quietly, his muscles clenching around his cock, the envision of Cas on his knees, his legs spread wide in front of him and Dean's cock buried deep inside him running through his mind.

Dean bites his lip, and wonders how  _Cas_  would bite his lip, if he would take it into his mouth a suck on it before opening his lips wide and pushing his tongue in, curling it and sliding their tongues against one another. Dean involuntarily moans again, louder this time, and he leans his head on the wallpaper, his breath quick and heavy against the barrier between them.

He shuts his eyes, and then its not his hand that he's thrusting into anymore, it's  _Cas,_ on his back with his hands gripping and grabbing at Dean's skin, yelling, screaming at him to move  _harder._ _  
_

_"Dean, yes, yes, baby, I'm coming..."_

Dean's fingers scratch at the wall like it was Cas' hair, pulling and entwining his hands in it as he fucks him. Dean can still feel his swollen tip throbbing against his hand, and his mind is telling him to go over and  _show_ Cas  _exactly_ how he'd fuck him, but he  _can't_ , and it's  _killing him._

Dean is fucking his hand almost vigorously now, the thought of his hand being Cas' warm and tight ass almost overwhelming and overpowering. Dean moans again, his stomach and cock straining in dire need of release, and he can feel the twinge in his core building.

"Cas, yes, oh,  _Cas,_ " Dean groans low and needy, his cock continuing to thrust in and out of his hand, "Oh, baby, I'm coming.  _Shit,_ Cas, I'm coming." Dean's pumping becomes more feverish and he feels like he needs to come more than anything in the world, and the tip of his cock is becoming more sensitive, turning a deep pink against his tan skin.

_"Dean! Oh, Dean! Yes! I'm coming!"_

"Yeah, Cas, that's right, come for me. Just like that baby,  _come for me_ ," Dean whimpers, his voice hitching and breaking against his heaving breath, his mouth quivering and shaking when he feels his balls tighten up and his cock twitch against his hand. Dean pants heavily and his legs begin to shake, and now he's making noises out of his mouth that he didn't even know  _existed._ "Yes,  _Cas,_ oh baby. So good,  _so good,_ oh god, I'm coming,  _Cas_  I'm coming,"

And then he feels it, his whole body shakes as his cock is spurting out come in front of him, and he's still whispering and heaving Cas' name even after he's finished. And now it's silent, and the only noise that fills Dean's room is his own shaken breath.

_Holy shit. I just jerked off to a guy._

He stares at the wall, his eyes wide and lips parted. He has no idea how long he's standing there, but by the time he realizes what just happened, he is now is certain of two things:

1\. Castiel Milton is uncontrollably, undoubtably, and wildly attracted to  _him_.

2\. He is:  _So. Fucking. Screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No update next week--I'll be at Toronto Con! 
> 
> Let me know how you guys like it:)


	5. Destination: Disneyland

Dean wakes up the next morning to a series of knocks. His eyes burn when they open, and he lets out a loud yawn as he tumbles to the door.

He groans when he opens it, his eyes struggling to see when a gust of air blows by him as the door swings. Dean squints when he sees the short, little man stroll right by him and into his room.

Dean scoffs. "What the—?"

"Good morning, sleeping beauty."

"What do you want, Gabe?" Dean asks hoarsely, shutting the door and trotting back to the bed to sit down. Gabe leans against the wall and grins.

"How was last night?" Gabe asks as he crosses his arms over his chest. Dean bites his cheek and gives him a once over.

Dean clears his throat. "Fine?" He says with sincere attitude. Gabe's still grinning at him and Dean can feel himself growing edgy.

_Last night._

Dean swallows.

_Last fucking night._

Gabe tilts his head. "Just fine?"

Dean purses his lips and squints. It wasn't _fine._ It was _fucking amazing._ Dean hadn't even laid a hand on Castiel but he still felt as though Cas had been _right there._ Dean feels a warm feeling settle in his stomach. _Castiel is attracted to him._

"Great." Dean smiles, "It was great."

"Well I'll be damned," Gabe laughs, giving Dean a once over before he pushes slowly off the wall and sits on the bed next to Dean, "Cassie said the same thing."

Dean perks up. "You talked to Cas? What did he say?" He says quickly, and then he bites the inside of his cheek because he feels like a crazed teenager asking for _details._

Gabe pats Dean on the shoulder, "He said—"

Their heads snap towards the door when three knocks strike the wood, causing Dean's heart to flutter.

_Cas?_

Gabe's the first one up, his pudgy body bouncing to the door. He raises on his toes and peeks into the peep-hole.

"Dear _Lord,_ " He shouts, his body whipping towards Dean in one quick movement as his mouth falls open, "Who the hell is _that_?!"

_Not Cas._

Dean stands, his eyebrows clenching in confusion as Gabe begins to open the door without Dean's consent. The door swings, and standing before them is—

"Sam?" Dean croaks, and he glares at Gabe and notices that his mouth has yet to close and Dean wonders if he'll start to catch flies.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam sneers, looking at Gabe from top to bottom before locking his eyes on Dean again, "Is this...Castiel?"

"Oh _hell_ no!" Dean laughs, and Gabe _tsks_ and rolls his eyes. Sam walks past Gabe and Gabe's eyes follow him. Dean watches his eyes fall directly to his brothers butt before Gabe purses his lips and nods.

_Oh boy._

"Is this your brother?" Gabe smiles as he shuts the door and steps closer to Sam. Dean chuckles when he sees Sam's eyes go wide. Dean holds his hands over his stomach and attempts to resist the urge to laugh at Gabriel's attempt of flirting.

Sam steps back, "Yes. I'm Dean's brother." Sam sucks in a breath and scratches the back of his head, "Deans _unavailable_ brother."

"Okay!" Dean shouts, his fists balling as he clears the tension his brother had just idiotically put into the room, "So, Castiel?"

"What about Castiel?" Sam butts in, the curves of his mouth curling, "Did something happen?"

_Oh God I wish._

"No," Dean says, but he's cut off by Gabe's militant laughter.

"I guarantee you the next time you'll see Dean he'll have hickies from head to toe," Gabe giggles, and Sam's hoarse laugh soon follows, "Even in places you didn't think hickies _could_ go."

"Enough!" Dean yells, his cheeks being ambushed by a scarlet red, and he can feel himself already begin to sweat through his white t-shirt. He glares at his brother and notices Sam's trying to bite back laughter. "Okay, is there like some purpose that you're here?"

Sam's dimples deepen, "Yeah I was just gonna' check up on you. Seemed pretty strange after you left the other day, man."

"You came to check up on me?" Dean snarls, "Dude, no chick flick moments, okay? I'm fine."

Dean watches as his brother's smile fades. _He's_ the one that should be checking up on Sam, not the other way around. And besides, he's _fine._ Or at least, _now_ he's fine. Knowing that Castiel wants him just as bad as he wants Castiel is something Dean feels like he's needed to hear his whole life.

"What was he not fine about?" Gabe asks, his body turning towards Sam.

Dean smacks himself in the head.

"Oh," Sam giggles, "He was upset because he thought his little crushie-wushie didn't like him back."

_Please just shoot me now while there's still time._

Dean sighs annoyingly, "I was not upset, Samantha, I was merely _bothered_ by it."

And that, was a pure, down-right, straight-up, _lie._ It didn't _just_ upset him, it pissed him off, made him distressed, but it most importantly made him feel _alone._ He's felt alone before, mostly all of his life, but never like he had when he thought Castiel didn't feel the same way. That was a different kind of _"alone"._

Being with Castiel, even if it isn't the way Dean _wants_ it to be, makes him feel _intact._ Unbroken, undamaged, unmarked.

Castiel makes him feel _perfect._

"Yes but he _does_ like you." Gabe speaks up, and Dean looks forward to see that Gabe and his brother had practically gravitated towards each other since the last time he looked towards them. "Or at least, I'm pretty sure he does."

"Pretty sure?" Dean swallows, "Pretty sure isn't sure, dude. I need _deats_."

Sam huffs, "Oh my god, you're like a girl."

"Shuddup, Samantha. Did someone forget to take their _Midol_ today? Need some tampons or something?" Dean spits at him, pointing his finger up in front of him and Sam raises his hands up and laughs.

Sam crosses his arms in front of his chest and squints. "Yeah I'll just borrow them from you, considering you have a lot of those, don't you?"

Dean starts laughing a little too because he can't just _not_ laugh at himself. He's never acted this way before, hell, he's never asked for "deats" before either. Sam's right, he is acting like a girl.

_Jesus fucking Christ Castiel, the things you do to me._

"He doesn't shut his trap about you that's for sure." Gabe says, and Dean looks up again to find that Gabe's arm is now brushing his brothers. And Sam's _cool with it._

_Gabe you sly dog._

"Dean this, Dean that, blah blah blah. I don't care. All I care about is when you guys finally fuck." Gabe sighs, and he makes an effort to step a little closer to Sam, "I wanna' know if you're a good fuck, 'cause I also wanna' _find out_ if it runs in the family."

_Oh shit._

At any point in his life, Dean has never ever wanted a camera more than he does at this very moment. Because this, oh _this, is_ priceless. The look on Sam's face is something Dean has never _ever_ witnessed before, on _anyone_ for that matter. Sam's face is the actual color of a ripe tomato, and his eyes, _wow_ his eyes, are almost as wide as Castiel's legs were in Dean's dream last night.

And the look on Gabe's is _so_ much better. He's proud. And dammit, he _deserves_ to be with that one.

Dean holds his stomach and tries to retain himself from bursting into hysterics, but before he can really crack, there comes another knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Sam shouts, and his legs are shaking while he carries himself to the door. Gabe glances at Dean and smiles.

Dean shoots him a finger, "Props to you on that one, dude." He laughs, and the reverts his attention to Sam at the door. His big gigantor body is in the way, but he hears Sam huff a laugh before he turns his head around.

"Well," Sam grins, his tongue swiping out to brush his bottom lip. Dean swallows because he knows _that look._ That's Sam's " _payback_ " look. "Castiel _is_ even more hot than you mentioned."

_SAM YOU MOTHER FUCKER._

Sam's body moves, and Castiel steps in, a gray _AC/DC_ t-shirt clinging to his chest and a pair of dark worn out jeans around his legs. Dean's breath hitches when he sees him, his hair exactly the way Dean likes it, and his eyes are even more stunning than Dean remembers.

Castiel smiles. "Hello, Dean."

Dean tries to smile back, but just ends up taking a gulp and choking on his own spit.

_Fan-fucking-tastic, Dean._

Sam clears his throat. "Well, I-uh, need to go. I'll call you later, man." Sam grins as he begins to walk out the door, Gabe following close behind.

"Yeah, catch ya later, Dean-o!" Gabe smirks. He walks by Castiel and whispers something in his ear before he makes his leave. Castiel turns a bright red and bites his lip.

Dean feels his stomach flop, because whatever Gabe just said, was clearly about him. And now, Dean and Castiel are just swimming in a pool of sexual tension.

"Did I interrupt anything?" Castiel says, his hands rustling the back of his hair.

_His hair._

That fucking dark hair that makes Dean go insane. Dean sucks a breath in, and his whole body clenches when he remembers what happened _last night._ It's Castiel, in the flesh. It's different, looking at him now. Knowing that he too wants the same thing Dean wants, and Dean contemplates whether he should just grab Castiel's face now and just fucking _kiss him._

_Fuck me, Dean, please, make me come...make me..._

Dean bites his lip until he tastes blood.

_No, do not start this now...don't think about it...don't think about it..._

"Dean?"

Dean's head shoots up. "Hm?"

Castiel steps forward and Dean feels like he just swallowed a hornet's nest. "You look...under the weather. Are you alright?"

Now that Castiel is closer to him and Dean can see the speckles of darker blue in the lightness of his eyes; no, he's not alright.

"I'm cool, man." Dean laughs, trying to look anywhere but at Castiel to avoid losing it.

Cas looks down and smiles, "So I have the day off today," He starts, and then he giggles, "And I wanted to hold you to your promise."

Dean tilts his head. "My promise?"

Castiel blushes and chews on his bottom lip, and Dean's gaze flickers back and forth from the pink of his lips to the blue of his eyes. Cas shrugs, "You promised you'd take me to Disneyland, and I'm holding you to it."

_Disneyland._

Disney-fucking-land. Cas _wants_ to go to Disneyland with him. A _date._

_Is it a date? Yeah, this would be considered a date right?_

Dean chuckles, "You want to—"

"I want to go on _Splash Mountain_." Cas interrupts as he nods his head, proud and confidently.

_Oh Lord Almighty._

Dean's lips spread into a gummy smile. He doesn't take Castiel for the "roller-coaster type" at all. Considering how horrified he is of scary movies, Dean can't see roller coasters being a good idea. Last night with Cas, _holy hell,_ all he'd do was cling on to Dean for dear life, and Dean just can't imagine how he'd be with a 50 foot drop down a water mountain into a thorny abyss.

_Wait a second..._

Dean props his head. If Cas was clinging onto him with the scary movie, he'd most likely do it even _more_ on the ride...

Dean smiles. "Alright, Splash Mountain it is."

* * *

The end of September was the best time to go visit the park. All the leaves were beginning to change, leaving traces of red and yellow on the stems of fallen leaves. The benches are cold and wet with dew, and Dean watches as Castiel stares at a pile of brown and crusty leaves whirl around in a little tornado next to them. Cas smiles and his eyes highlight with the sun shining a wave over them.

Cas bites his thumb nail and sits crossed-legged on the bench. "This map is indecipherable. What the hell is _Roger Rabbit's Cartoon Spin_? What are these things?"

Dean snatches the map from Cas and laughs, "Wow, dude, you live under a rock or something?" He says with a sigh, reverting his eyes to the map.

"I'm not very pop culture savvy, if that's what you're asking."

Dean shoves the map in his pocket, "Why don't we just walk around for a while, talk a little."

Cas beams. "I'd enjoy that," He stands, and Dean follows him shortly after as they begin to trail around the park. It's not warm, but it's not cold either, and every once in a while Cas' teeth start to clank together and he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. Dean likes it when he does it because it just gives him another reason to walk closer.

They pass the spinning teacups, listening to the annoying yet somewhat calming sound of children's laughter. Castiel giggles a little a looks up to Dean.

"So, Dean, tell me about yourself."

Dean turns his head to Castiel, seeing that he's grinning at the sidewalk in front of him. "Like what?" He says with a swallow.

There's _nothing_ about him that Cas would be interested in knowing. He doesn't want to hear his sob story about how his life sucks or how he has a lot of " _issues_ ". He wants to hear what he likes, what he does for fun, what makes him happy. And it's hard to tell someone that kind of stuff about yourself if you don't exactly _have any._

"Anything," Cas says deeply, "Just tell me anything."

Dean shrugs and sucks in the inside of his cheek. "I don't really got much, to be honest."

"I find that seemingly difficult to believe, considering I think you happen to be a very," Cas stops himself completely, his feet halt along with the sound of his voice, and Dean hitches, his body faltering as soon as he sees Castiel stop. Cas lingers for a moment, smiling at the ground again. "Different. You really are different."

_Different?_

_Different how?_

But Dean already knows he's different. The way he grew up, the things that he'd done, what he's gone through; they were all different. They were incomparable, matchless, divergent. As far as he knows, being different is bad. And now hearing it from Cas, feels strange. But in all honesty, he didn't know what he was expecting; or really, what he _wanted_ to hear. He wanted to hear something better than " _different_ ". He just doesn't know what it is yet. All he knows now, is that he is _different,_ and he doesn't know whether that iss a good or bad thing.

It must've been a good thing. It had to be, considering Castiel's _noises_ last night.

"I can take that," Dean mumbles, "For now."

Castiel blushes, but doesn't say anything. He shoves his hands in his pockets and nuzzles his neck into his jacket collar.

Dean steps on the crunchy leaves on the path. "So what about you, huh?"

Cas starts mimicking Dean, stepping on the crunchy leaves before Dean has a chance too. "What about me?"

"I don't know, just you. Like tell me something about yourself."

Castiel laughs a little but doesn't respond immediately, first drawing his attention to a group of kids climbing on the _Mickey Mouse_ statue, and then to a pigeon pecking its beak down at the concrete to gather dropped popcorn sprawled across the walkway. Castiel looks into the air and contemplates for a while.

"Yeah, see? Not so easy when the question is directed toward you, now is it?" Dean jokes.

Castiel laughs before he parts his lips and sighs again, "I'm very hard to figure out."

Dean shakes his head and nudges Castiel on the shoulder. "Alright, we'll start simple, then. What's your favorite color?"

"Really?" Cas laughs, his tongue brushing his lips when a gust of cool air brushes them. He turns to Dean and nods, "I like orange."

Dean scoffs, "Orange? Dude, really?"

"What?" Cas chuckles sarcastically, "Is that not satisfying enough to you?"

Dean grins and shakes his head again, "Nah, just different, I guess."

Castiel stops in his tracks again. "Different is a good thing."

Dean stops and looks back, a small distance separating the two. Castiel was smiling subtly, dimples showing faintly in his prickly skin. His smile radiates across to Dean, and he smiles right back.

_Different is a good thing._

It's a weird consciousness that hit Dean's stomach, a strange tingle in his core that can't be acquitted with words. Castiel is  _different._

Cas' eyes light up, "Hey look!" He shouts, and runs past Dean, leaving a gust of wind that knocks Dean out of another one of his "space-out sessions". His head follows Castiel, and he's in the line for the ride. "Dean! C'mon!"

_Oh boy._

Dean's been on _Splash Mountain_ before. Many times with his brother, in fact. It's quite boring for him actually, considering he's more of the upside-down loop, going 75 miles an hour roller coaster guy, but this will do. All things considered, it's the end of September, on a Sunday, and nobody is really at the park compared to the previous times Dean's gone. A group of people soaked from head-to-toe walk by them.

"Let's do that again!" One of them shouts. Dean rolls his eyes.

_Great, I'm gonna' get bathed it recycled spit-water._

So the line hops quickly, and soon enough, Dean and Castiel are sat right next to each other in the last row of the tight, compact plastic log rift. Dean's butt's soaking wet, which is more than uncomfortable given the fact he's wearing jeans. And now Castiel is pressed firmly against his side, and he can feel him _shaking._

The ride moves, and Castiel's hand grips the metal bar in front of them.

"Is it too late to get off?" Castiel whispers.

Dean smacks his forehead. "Cas!" He yells. He knew this would happen.

"This was an awful idea." He says, and he sucks in a breath of air big enough to pop a balloon. Dean can see Cas' whole body literally shaking, "Why didn't you talk me out of this? Dammit Dean."

Dean laughs, "Hey! You said you wanted to go on it!" He laughs and pats Cas on the shoulder, "It'll be over in no time, trust me."

_Feel free to grab on to me at any time now..._

"No, no, no, oh my _God_ no." Cas whimpers, his hands clutching the bar so tightly Dean can see the white in his knuckles. His head is buried down into his chest and he's squeezing his eyes shut so tight that Dean can see every wrinkle and crease perfectly carved on his face. He just looks so fucking _cute,_ even when he's half scared to death.

"Okay, there's a little bit of a hill here," Dean starts, and Castiel grabs Dean's knee so tightly Dean winces.

_Dude likes it rough._

Cas opens his eyes for a second but immediately shuts them after, "NO, NO, NO, _NO_! This was such an awful idea!"

Dean has to admit, it's almost kind of hilarious seeing Cas like this. The calm and content CEO acting like a 5 year-old kid not in their right mind is fucking priceless; but at the same time, Dean feels like he needs to _protect him._ Maybe by instinct, given the fact he's been watching over Sammy for years, but whatever it is, Dean needs to be there.

Dean turns towards Castiel and freezes.

His arm was _already_ around Castiel's shoulder, gripped tightly on the other end and pulling Castiel close into him and leaning into his chest. Cas' hand was coiled in Dean's shirt, and he was breathing heavy and warm against Dean's neck.

_WHEN THE FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN?_

It was just _instinct_. His body has a mind of it's own around him, and Dean's fingers curl across his shivering skin, pressing Cas closer to him, until he feels the rapid beat of his heart echoing into his own body.

Dean swallows and presses his chin to Castiel's hair, "There's another hill coming, and then the big one," He says as calmly as he can, and he feels Castiel's grip on his shirt tense, "You alright there, man?"

"This is the epitome of imprudent ideas," Castiel groans, his breath uneven and shaky into Dean's skin, so close that Dean feels Cas' lips skim his neck, "So to answer your question, no."

Cas is driving Dean insane. Fuck Cas being scared, _fuck everything,_ because Dean is so close, so fucking close to just fucking _kissing him._ There's heated breath on his neck and Cas' lips are whispering and brushing against it, and Dean wants more. Cas' hands are still tightly pressed into him, both coiled tightly around the cloth of his shirt, along with Cas' rapidly rising chest crushed into Dean's side. Dean can feel the _warmth,_ the _tension,_ and every other little feeling in between in the center of his core.

Castiel's nails dig into Dean's skin when they go down the second biggest hill, and if it's any possible, Dean's pressing him closer into him, as close as they can possibly get. "It's okay, one more and it's over. It's over."

"Son of a _fuck._ " Castiel cries, and Dean can't help but smile when he hears Castiel swear like that. Needless to say, it's _hot.  
_

They turn a small corner, and Dean hitches when he sees the dark tunnel. The annoying music starts playing louder, and Dean begins rubbing Cas' shoulder, "Almost over, almost over. Just hold on to me, and you'll be fine, 'kay Cas?"

Castiel shakes his head, "I'm such an idiot! Why did I come on this ride!?" He yelps, throwing his arms across Dean's chest, and pulling him in, "Dean, I can't do this."

_Well, you don't really have a choice..._

Dean takes a deep breath, entwining a fist full of Cas' hair in his hand as he leans his forehead into the side of Cas' temple. Dean sees Cas shutting his eyes so tightly, and it only gets worse when he feels the elevation of the ride start to increase.

_Fuck it._

"Cas, look at me," Dean whispers in his ear, but Cas doesn't respond, and he continues to clutch onto his shirt, his body shaking against Dean's stable one, "Cas! Fucking look at me, dammit." Dean roars, his hand that was once holding onto Castiel's arm now cupping the side of his face and leaning it towards him.

Castiel's eyes open wide, and they're glassy and red; clearly overwhelmed with fear. He's still shivering as Dean starts to rub the underside of his jaw with his thumb, "Just look at me. Just watch me. Just forget everything and watch me."

Looking at Castiel gives Dean a different feeling every time. It's like every time is the first time. Like everything is moving in fast forward, and it's just them two, in the middle of it all. In a quick instant, Cas' face unwrinkles from hiding, his whole body sucking in a breath as Dean continues to hold his face exactly where he wants it to be. Dean moves his hand to the back of Castiel's neck, and he feels his heart pulse quicken when Castiel blinks slowly, an _emotion,_ a _feeling,_ a _strength_ , illuminating from the icy blue crystals in his irises.

It's all one feeling, like a smooth raindrop falling to the surface, and exploding when it hits the ground, sending pieces everywhere and sinking into the depths of the earth. His eyes were shy, hidden behind a sheet of _hunger, desire, longing._

Cas' hands let go, his fingers unhinging from the fabric of Dean's shirt, resting softly on his chest. His eyes refused to leave, and Dean knows that as long as his hand never breaks from his face, Cas will never pull back, because he won't have the _power_ to. Cas is in the palm of his hand, and he's in the palm of Cas'.

_Just look at me._

Cas never stops. Never breaks, never blinks, never takes a glance. The ride down becomes a mystery, lost in the embedded surroundings. Only when a wave of water attacks them out of nowhere does Dean start breathing again, unhinging his hand from Cas' neck. Dean starts laughing, his hand wiping the water that coated his face. Cas laughs shortly after, rubbing his eyes to rid the dripping liquid.

"Easy, right?" Dean says, and Castiel scooches away a little, an impending smile growing on his face. He looks down and shrugs with a sly grin, but doesn't say anything. Dean sucks in the side of his cheek and wonders if _that_ meant the same thing to Cas as it did to him. And then he wonders if Cas just thinks Dean would be a good hook-up instead of a _relationship._

_Wait what? No, I'm not looking for a relationship. I'm already in one...aren't I...?_

As if Lisa and his _relationship_ even qualified _as_ a _"relationship"._

Dean's thought is interrupted brutally by a huge wave of water slapping him across the face. He spits out disgusting water and rubs his eyes, only to look over and see Castiel laughing and smiling like an idiot.

"That was for not convincing me to get off this ride when we had the chance!" Cas giggles, his smile spreading wide across the stubble on his face.

Dean slicks his hair back, "Oh, you little fucker!" He laughs and reaches his hand over the side of the raft and scoops as much water as he can into his hand. Cas' eyes widen when he sees the tsunami coming his way, but keeps laughing anyway as he shapes his now soaking wet hair into a mo-hawk shape on the top of his head.

Cas puckers his lips and sucks in his cheeks. "New look?"

Dean rubs his chin and examines the spiky hair. "Totally, dude. Don't forget to dye it orange after. That'll really make your eyes pop."

Castiel laughs, shaking his head before he looks up to meet Dean's eyes again. And he stares for a while, the smallest grin on his face.

"You know I never really noticed how green your eyes are," Castiel smiles and shakes his head as he presses his hair back down, ruffling it up a bit to just give it that little _kick._ Dean tilts his head for a second, and then turns away, trying to hide the scarlet blush that he knows is on his face. Dean knows the color of his eyes will always come second place to those of Castiel's, no matter how green they may be.

The ride comes to a stop, and Dean steps out after Castiel, ringing out his shirt. He looks down a grimaces, because he's practically floating in his own shoes, and he feels his jeans clinging to him in places it really shouldn't be clinging to. Dean looks up at Cas and freezes when he notices the grey _AC/DC_ t-shirt sticking to every curve, every inch, every muscle of Cas' torso.

_Sweet fucking Christ.  
_

Cas is _soaking_ wet, his hair still dripping and sticking up in all different directions as he musses it up with his hands. It's nearly _impossible_ for Dean _not_ to stare. His mouth is crooking upwards in such a way that it almost _suggests_ they should "take it to the bedroom". The hair on his forehead is too wet and heavy to stand, and now hangs over the long lashes on his eyes, and droplets come from his hairline above his temple, dripping down across his face and trailing his formed jaw until it breaks from his skin and drips to the ground.

Cas grabs the front end of his shirt and rings it out, revealing the lower part of his abdomen and back, which, _thankfully,_ Dean has a nice side-view of both. His jeans are heavy and wet and hanging low on his hips just above the cleft of his ass, and Dean draws his full attention to the "V" on the lower part of his back. His pants hug his legs in such a way that Dean can also see quite clearly the outlined bulge at the front of his jeans.

_Son of a fuck._

"Dean are you alright?"

Dean swallows and coughs a little, "Yeah, why?"

Cas shrugs, "You seemed to be spacing." He says and he shakes his hands and sneers at his wet clothes, "Here, let's get some dry clothes."

Cas leads him to a small store where he ends up buying them both Disneyland black sweatshirts with the logo on the front and grey sweatpants for Dean, and dark blue for himself, that Cas looks drop dead _adorable_ in. They walk out of the store, plastic bag in Dean's hand to carry the wet clothes. Dean almost wishes Castiel was still in the dripping clothes, only because he looked so _fucking_ hot in them. They just outlined every single curve of his body, almost like a second layer of skin. Dean has to shake the thought away, because now he is comfortably in sweatpants that could _easily_ allow him to get a boner instead of those jeans.

Castiel taps Dean on the shoulder, "Hey, look!" He yells, running away from Dean. Dean's eyes follow him to a small $1 game booth.

_Oh god, not these._

Dean walks up next to Castiel and he's staring intently at the little plastic aliens inside the booth in the back that are attached to metal rods and moving back and forth rapidly across the platform. He also eyes the array of colored teddy bears across the side of the booth.

"Have you ever played one of these before?" Dean asks, and Cas immediately shakes his head and smiles.

"No, but I would like to."

Dean reaches in the plastic bag and pulls out his disgustingly wet wallet, and whips out two damp dollars from the pocket. Cas is bouncing on his feet like a five year old kid when Dean hands the guy the bills.

The guy sighs, a long and breathy groan, one that says " _I really love my job_ ", and he sets up the little toy-gun machine. "Okay, you have six shots. Knock an alien down and you get a bear."

Dean takes a step back, eager to admire this, because he knows that this can only go one way. And oh boy, he was right.

The first shot was probably the funniest thing Dean has ever seen in his life. Cas holds the gun right in front of his chest and leans his head back so he's making almost like twenty chins as he tries to aim the little Bebe gun at the moving plastic aliens. He fires, but none of them actually find out where the first one went.

Cas fires the last two almost impossibly quickly, one right after the other, and he stomps his foot on the ground when none of the little aliens fall over. "Dammit!" He yells.

Dean laughs and steps next to him, "No, Cas, hold it like this." Dean takes the gun from Castiel's hand and aims it, both hands straight in front of him at eye level. He grins to himself before he shoots. He knew target practice with cans and bottles with Bobby and Sam would pay off someday.

He shoots, and not a second later, a little plastic alien falls to its death. The guy behind the counter looks at him with a bemused glare. "Don't count that one as a hit," Dean says, his hand brushing his sweatshirt, "Pretend I missed."

Cas scoffs, "What? How did you—?"

Dean laughs, "Alright, did you see what I did? Try that." He says with a smirk as he hands the confused looking Castiel the gun. Cas reluctantly takes it and shakes his head. He raises his arms in front of him, but Dean notices he's still not at eye-level and he's not closing one eye to get a better accuracy mark. Sure enough, Cas fires and misses again.

"I only have one shot left." Cas frowns.

_Hey, why not, right?_

Dean moves behind him and presses his crotch to the side of Cas' ass and Dean feels Cas tense almost immediately. He places one hand across his back and on his shoulder while the other is raised with Castiel's with the gun. He leans down into the crook of Castiel's shoulder and whispers hot and heated directly into his ear.

"Close one eye, it helps with aim," Dean says smoothly, and he hears Cas suck a breath in. Cas swallows and closes his eye, but Dean decides to take the torture just a _little_ bit further. He steps behind Castiel completely and presses his dick directly into Castiel's ass, one hand on the curve of his hip and the other around his body supporting his arms.

Cas _squeals._

"Like-like this?" Cas asks dryly and hesitantly, peeking over his shoulder and taking a quick glimpse of Dean's face, but he gapes away quickly when their eyes meet. Dean smirks to himself.

"Yeah, Cas, _just_ like that." Dean groans in his ear, adding a little huskiness to his tone to make it  _just_ the right amount of  _alluring._ The hand resting on Cas' hip swipes across the curve of his back, and Dean sees Cas swallow and exhale sharply. Dean chews on his bottom lip, because this isn't just torture for Cas, it's even more for _him._

Cas shoots, and a little plastic alien falls to its death.

"Holy shit!" Cas yelps, and he hitches his body and smiles and laughs in excitement, "Dean, did you see that?"

"Badass Cas over here." Dean laughs, his hand raising up Cas' back and receiving a shiver from the man. Dean looks at the array of colored teddy bears on the shelf and points to one. "That orange one. We'll take the orange one."

"No, wait."

Dean turns to Cas and notices that he doesn't have his eyes on the orange one at all. Cas smiles at the guy behind the counter and points to another one. "Can I have the green one, please?" Castiel points to a deep forest colored green bear, all the way in the back of the display.

Dean scoffs, "Since when did you start liking the color green?"

Castiel smiles softly and accepts the teddy bear from the man, thanking him before he starts to walk away. Dean follows him and watches as Cas holds the stuffed bear close to his chest. Castiel looks at the bear, and then at Dean and smiles even more, enough that his eyes begin to crinkle on the sides.

He stares at Dean for a long time, his eyes flickering back and forth between each one.

"Don't know. 'Bout half hour ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know when I will have the next update, probably next week or the week after!
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO--For those questioning or wondering about Dean and Lisa's realtionship...don't worry..that will be cleared up...VERY SOON.
> 
> Let me know how you guys like it!


	6. Destination: Dinner with John Winchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING: VERY MILD MENTIONS OF HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE**

It's funny how the unsaid can be heard so easily sometimes, especially when all you need to do is just _look._ How just the mere glimpse of a frozen second in time can mean a million different things, or can leave you thinking of all the different possibilities. It really is, quite funny in fact, how not saying anything at all can truly voice more than the longest speech.

Pictures.

A frozen second in time. With each pixel lies an untold story, a _word,_ a _feeling._

Dean rubs his thumbs on the corners of the shiny paper, biting his lip as he stares at what the camera had caught.

Sam snatches it from him. "How much longer are you gonna stare at this thing?" He whines. Dean leans over across the diner table and carefully pulls it from his brothers fingers, careful not to crinkle the frail paper.

"I'm not staring at it, dammit." Dean groans, folding it back up and putting it in his jacket pocket.

"Then what exactly _are_ you doing with it?"

Dean sighs. As much as he loves his brother, Sam has the uncanny ability to be a little shit at the worst times. Okay, _sure,_ Dean was staring at it...but how can he not? He had paid twenty bucks for the damn photo op that Castiel just _had to have_ from their adventure on _Splash Mountain,_ so dammit, he's allowed to stare at it all he wants.

But it also might be the fact that Dean just _can't stop looking at it._ Ugly bruises fading on his face aside, the way his arm is wrapped around the back of Castiel's neck, the other on his jaw line, thumb swaying against the bone, is hard _not_ to look at. Or it might be the way Castiel has his hands coiled in Dean's shirt on his sides, pulling him closer. Or maybe the way Castiel is looking at him, with trust, with admiration, with _hunger._ Or maybe, just fucking maybe, the way _he's_ looking at Castiel; as if he was the only other human in the world, as if he was staring into a mirror and looking at his own reflection. As if, he was hearing the unsaid.

"I've never seen you like this, Dean."

Dean props his head up, "What do you mean?"

"You're happy." Sam scoffs and shakes his head, "I mean, really happy."

Dean makes a face, because it most certainly sounded like Sam was trying to make a _point._ "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam shrugs, "I'm just saying. I mean, since Lisa and what she did with Benny and—"

"Get to the point, Sam." Dean cuts him off. And suddenly, he doesn't feel so in-the-mood for pie anymore, and he pushes the apple crusted treat away from him and leans against the diner cushioned seat.

"I don't really have a point. I'm just saying—you and Cas, are-are," Sam pauses and pushes his plate away too, and Dean sees his eyes trail away and ponder, "good together."

_Good together?_

But they're not even _together._ Technically speaking if they were in high-school, he and Cas would considerably have a " _thing_ ", which Dean now decides is the _proper_ word for this situation. "We have a _thing_ , 'kay?"

Sam furrows his brows at him and just gives him the " _I-am-totally-judging-you"_ face. "What are you? Like twelve? You're a mature adult, Dean. If you like the guy, then you like the guy. If he likes you, then he likes you."

Dean stares at his brother like he has three heads. Was he forgetting about the most important thing here? Can his _brother_ actually be so _stupid_?

"Sam, I'm getting married."

Dean swallows when he sees Sam shake his head with a huff. His brother stands, long and broad shoulders clenching angrily as he stomps his feet out the door, shoving the glass diner door open.

Dean watches him go out into the morning air, and he digs for cash in his pocket and throws it on the table. "What did I say?" He whispers to himself, following his obviously strained brother outside.

He finds Sam by his car, pacing back and forth as he grinds his teeth.

Dean watches him with confusion. "Did I hit the panic button or something?"

"Why are you with Lisa? After what she did to you? After she _cheated_? After she _lied_? After everything she did?! Why are you still with her?!"

Not every question requires an answer, and Dean knows that this one surely doesn't. Because there _is no answer._ There is no explanation, no reason, no purpose. Dean is with Lisa because he just _is._ Dean swallows, trying to avoid the massive lump that's blocking his airways, but the more he tries to avoid it, the more it seems to be making it harder to breathe.

Dean shakes his head and shrugs, "Because I am. I don't know what—"

"No! You're with her because you think you don't deserve any better!"

_God dammit, Sammy._

Dean parts his mouth to say something, but he doesn't respond. There's no use in arguing, because Sam was right, like always. He doesn't think he deserves anyone better, especially Castiel. He knows he'll hurt Castiel, intentional or not, he just knows it. Dean's always been the one to _be_ hurt, and the thought of him _causing_ it is an entirely different feeling; something that makes Dean feel sick to his stomach.

Dean wishes he could hurt Lisa like she hurt him, but he knows if was given the opportunity, he wouldn't. He's been told that when someone treats him like shit, there's something wrong with them, not him. But no matter how many times he's reminded of that, it's not convincing.

He doesn't deserve Cas, and that's final.

"I'm here for a week, Sam. That's it. Done. Then I'm _leaving_." Dean says sternly, his teeth clenching between his jaws, "And what? You think I should just leave everything behind and go with Cas?"

"If that's what you want."

_It's what I want._

The feeling of consideration that grows in Dean's stomach is almost sickening. He can't believe himself. He actually wants it, but there's a roadblock in the way. There's unanswered questions, doubts, uncertainty. What would happen to Lisa and Ben? What if Cas doesn't want him like that? He'd be giving up _everything_ , for a single chance.

"Don't settle for a relationship that won't let you be yourself, Dean." Sam says, a slight sincerity in the grave tone of his voice. Dean looks to his brother, his golden whiskey hair swaying in the chill of the wind. "I know that look. That's your 'I hate when you're right' look."

Dean stifles a laugh, "I hate when you're right about me hating you about being right." He says, and he sees Sam smirk.

Sam takes a deep breath, "Alright enough bitching. C'mon." Sam says with his eyebrows raised, "We have a family dinner to get to."

Dean's spine stiffens. "Wait what?"

"Oh, c'mon, don't tell me you forgot." Sam laughs, his keys jingling when he takes them out of his pocket. Sam's eyes squint and he crinkles his nose, his face serious but apologetic, and Dean knows _exactly_ what that means. _  
_

"Dad's gonna be there, isn't he?" Dean swallows.

Sam doesn't say anything.

"Shit."

* * *

"Maybe he'll be in a better mood this time."

_Yeah, sure._

Dean _tsks_ at his brother and glares at him, his eyes searching for emotion; though, there isn't any. Sam's eyes remain tight and focused on the road, and Dean knows that it's just his brother's way of avoiding the truth.

Dean contemplates responding, or making a wise-ass remark, but he knows that _Sam_ already knows. The last time John Winchester was in a good mood...well, Dean c _an't_ remember the last time John Winchester was in a good mood.

Was it when Sam got accepted into Stanford Law School?

_No._

Or when Sam announced his engagement?

_No._

How about when _Dean_ announced _his_ engagement?

_HELL NO._

John was down-right _furious_ when Dean announced his engagement with Lisa. Not _just_ because he hates her, but because it was _Dean._ It was _Dean_ that was the one going on with his life; _Dean_ who was the one who gets to have a family; _Dean_...not _John_.

Dean's surprised Sam had the balls to invite their Dad to the wedding, even more so that he invited him to a family dinner. Dean rolls his eyes and leans his head against the window.

_Oh boy, nothin' like a good ol' family dinner to brighten up the day._

Dean shuts his eyes. He knows that as long as he keeps his mouth shut, it won't be _half_ as bad as it usually is. That is of course, if he _can_ keep his mouth shut. There's no telling what will happen at his Dad's; but Dean's got a feeling in the pit of his stomach that isn't good.

The rest of the ride is quiet between them, even more so when Sam turns the music down after Dean's turned it up. Dean fiddles with the stations.

"Dude," Sam swats Dean hand away from the knob and turns back to his girly shit, "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole."

Dean scoffs, "Woah, hey! You can't use my own words against me!"

"When we're not in your car, I choose."

Dean lets out a heavy breath and purses his lips to the side. He just wants to sit down on black leather couches, curl up in a ball and watch _Star Trek._ With a friend. With his blue-eyed friend. With his blue-eyed, gorgeous, irresistibly dangerous _crush._

Dean feels a tap on his knee.

"Alright, Dean. Ready?"

Dean looks up to see his Dads place, blue chipped paint, plants and vines attacking the sides of the house like it hasn't been cared for in years. Dean turns to Sam and swallows, "Not really, no."

Sam's eyes trail down as he pulls the key out of the ignition, a long breath when he pushes out of the car and shuts the door, leaving Dean alone in the passenger seat.

Dean nods, "Two hours. That's it. Just two hours." He says to himself, reluctantly getting up and shutting the car door, running to catch up to his brother at the front door. Sam has already knocked.

Dean taps his foot on the ground, his body hitching when the door swings open.

He sighs in relief at the old scruffy bearded man at the door. "Bobby," Dean smiles subtly as Bobby takes Dean's shoulder with a firm hand.

"Dean, Sam. Was startin' 'ta get a little worried you wouldn't show up." Bobby adjusts the ratty cap on his head, "Glad you boys could make it."

Dean walks in a gets a whiff of _actual_ food instead of microwaved crap. "And I'm glad you guys didn't burn the house down."

"Oh you can thank Karen for that. Girl wanted to cook all by herself." Bobby takes Dean and Sam's jacket and hangs them on the coat-rack, a slight grin on his face, "Not that she would let John 'er I cook anyways."

Dean steps in a little farther, noticing the crooked pictures hanging from the walls, so dusty that the pictures itself can't be seen. There's still a musty smell in the air, despite the freshly cooked food. Past the door is the living room, the television blasting a football game. The couch is unoccupied, tattered and dusted with tears in the old fabric. The glass coffee table in front of it is _covered_ with empty beer bottles and one empty whiskey bottle.

"I heard that!" Karen yells from the kitchen, and soon she comes out, red oven mits wrapped tightly around what _appeared_ to be green-bean casserole. She hovers for a few moments before setting the dish on the table. "Oh, hello boys," She gives them each a kiss on the cheek, "I swear you two get more handsome each time I see you."

"They get that from their father."

_Shit._

That's when Dean's heart picks up. The sound of his voice hasn't changed; still deep and vigorous, so much emotion kept in. Dean hesitates before turning, coming face to face with a _familiar_ yet _unfamiliar_ face.

"Sam. Dean." John says, his eyes vaguely squinted against his wrinkled face. Dean looks him over, and he can tell by the salt and pepper scruff that he hasn't shaved in a while, nor gotten a decent haircut. He's wearing a forest green tee-shirt with a bluish gray over-shirt that both look like they haven't been washed in a while, as well as torn dark jeans that clearly need to go.

Dean stands still, as well as his brother, allowing their Dad to _look them over._

"Good to see you two." John says finally after a while, eying Dean more than Sam.

Dean wishes he can say the same. But instead he just nods his head and lets his younger brother take over.

"It's good seeing you too, Dad." Sam sucks in a breath and exhibits a half-ass smile, his arm wrapping around the side of their Dad for a quick hug. John smiles, his dimples digging deep into his skin, and Dean can see where Sam gets it from. If only _he_ could've been that lucky.

"Let's not waste any time, shall we?" John lets go of Sam, patting Dean on the shoulder before he motions towards the table, now covered in a buffet of food. John whips past Dean, and he smells like gasoline, cigarettes, and whiskey. Nothing new.

It's a little bizarre at first, how nice John is being. Sam notices it too, taking quick glances back and forth between Dean next to him, and his father at the head of the table. Dean clears his throat, plopping a spoonful of mashed potatoes on his plate.

"Karen this looks wonderful," John grins at her as he puts a steak onto his plate. Karen looks down and smiles at him. "So Sam," John begins, a forkful of green beans in his mouth, "Ruby?"

Sam nods. "She's great," He says, finishing his chewing and swallowing before he begins talking again, "We're both very excited for Thursday. She was going to come tonight, but she's a little hyped up right now. Pre-wedding stuff."

"She's _always_ hyped up," Dean smiles, and he hears Sam and Bobby grunt a laugh while Karen giggles. John didn't laugh. In fact, he did quite the opposite; scrutinizing him, his eyes dark and incensed. Dean stops smiling and reverts his attention back to his plate, which suddenly looks so completely unappetizing its almost disgusting.

"So Thursday now, huh?" John says again, "Why the postpone?"

Sam sighs. "Ruby had a mishap with her dress..." Sam trails off, wiping his grinning mouth with his fingers, "See, we got a dress in the mail, but-but it wasn't _our_ dress."

Dean chokes a laugh, "What do you mean it wasn't _your_ dress?"

Sam looks around the table at the intrigued eyes around him, and Dean bites his tongue because this _has_ to be good.

"Well I don't think Ruby is the traffic-cone orange with giant-ass, frilly bows on the back of it type."

Karen huffs a laugh and Bobby just rolls his eyes. Dean scratches the back of his neck, "Hey, that dress would _totally_ suit her." Dean jokes, elbowing Sam on the shoulder. Sam shakes his head and smiles at him.

"Seriously, Dean?"

Dean's eyes find his fathers.

_Not good._

"Dad," Dean sucks in a shaken breath, "I was just kidding. Sam knows—"

"At least Sam _likes_ the person he's marrying."

The table goes silent.

Dean feels his stomach twist into a tight knot. His lips roll into a line as his Dad leans forward and places his elbows against the wooden table, tilting his head.

"How is Lisa by the way?" Johns eyes squint, "Good?"

Dean nods, parting his lips to say something but the words won't slide off his tongue properly, "It's, uh, she-she's fine."

"Ben?"

"Fine."

" _Benny?_ "

Silence again.

It's not so much as a _silence;_ as it is more of a _speechlessness._

"John," Bobby says harshly, but John shushes him.

"I want to know." John glares at Dean, and Dean can feel his eyes piercing right through him all the way down into his core.

"I wouldn't know." Dean responds, his back stiff and aching. He feels the need to respond to his Dad, like he doesn't have a choice. Of course, John _had_ to bring _this_ up. Of _course_ he did. Dean almost wants to start laughing; how could he think he could have a family dinner without John bringing up _this_.

John _tsks_ at him as he shakes his head. "Shame." He says, standing from the table with his plate.

Dean can feel the heat in his stomach, getting ready to explode right out of him. Sam clearly sees him ready to implode.

"Dean," Sam whispers under his breath, his hand slightly touching Dean's shoulder, trying to grab it to keep him steady...but it's too late.

Dean stands from the table, "It wasn't my fault!" He yells, his fist slamming on the wooden table so hard that Sam's drink spills onto his lap. Dean ignores it.

Karen gasps, "I'll go get napkins," She whispers, her face white as she scurries away into the other room.

John watches her leave, then returning his gaze to Dean, who is now ready to smash his father's face into a Goddamn concrete wall. John sets his plate down onto the table, next then taking a few steps toward Dean.

"Not your fault?" John repeats, his head shaking ever so slightly and his mouth curving at the side. "Not your fault that Lisa cheated on you?" John huffs a laugh, his teeth peaking through his lips. "It _is_ your fault, Dean."

More heat is rising into Dean's stomach. It hasn't even been a goddamn half hour. 

_Keep it in, Dean. Keep it in._

Dean feels tired, exhausted, as if he had just run ten miles. His breath is coming out in quick and shallow rasps, and all he can see is a sheet of red in front of his eyes. "It's her fault! She-she—" Dean starts, but then is cut off by his father's militant laughter.

"No, Dean. It's _yours_. You didn't treat her well enough. That's why she did it." John spits, now only inches from him, hot and heavy breath against his face. Dean can feel a heavy weight begin to press into his chest. "You don't treat her right like Sam treats Ruby. You don't treat her right like Bobby treats Karen," John holds a pointed finger to his chest, and Dean feels as if it's stabbing through his skin, "You don't treat her right like...like _I_ _treated your mother_."

"John!" Bobby yells, but John ignores it, his finger is still held sharp up to Dean's chest, his eyes glassy and threatening.

Dean shakes his head, and he can feel the anger in his core so powerful that he begins to sweat. It isn't true. It _can't_ be. It isn't his fault. There's so much anger whirling around his head, a tornado destroying everything in it's path, and before he can stop himself—

"I treat _him_ right!" Dean screams, his hand shoving John's finger away from his chest, and John flinches as Dean motions forward. Dean hears Sam suck in a quick breath.

_Shit._

"What?" John's face morphs into disgust, " _Who?_ "

Dean remains still, fists clenched and sweaty. He could lie. He _really_ could. But he doesn't.

"You heard me." Dean nods his head, his eyes struggling to blink, " _Him_."

Sam and Bobby both stand from the table, Sam placing his hand on John's shoulder but John shoves the hand off him.

"Excuse me? There's a _him_?" John's jaw is dropped, his eyes wide and furrowed with horror, "You're-you're... _gay_?"

Dean swallows, " _So_?" He snaps, and it's like just saying the word " _so_ " felt _so_ good. Dean doesn't know why, but it does.

John makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. "You're a... _fag_! A fucking _faggot_!"

"Dad!" Sam shouts, and he pulls John's arm back until they're face to face, "What the fuck?"

John looks mortified, "My son...your brother," John stutters and hesitates, looking pale and as if he might be sick,"... is a fucking _faggot_!?"

" _So_?" Sam shoves him away and turns to Dean, "Dean, let's go."

"You don't see what's wrong with this, Sammy?" John raises his voice to a subtle yell. Sam cringes when John calls him by the nickname, as if he were spitting fire at him, "Your brother is a  _queer_."

Sam holds Dean back, although Dean has no intention of moving from where he is. Sam looks at John harshly, "You call yourself our father?" He says, quietly and intimidating, shaking his head before turning to help Dean out of the house. Dean's legs have a little trouble working, but with Sam's hand wrapped around his back, they agree to move. Dean's mind is winded.

_A faggot. A queer._

Dean's never been called those things before. He never knew how much they would feel when they were thrown at him—especially by his father. His fucking  _father._

They're at the door when Dean hears the sudden clash of glass against the floor, followed by thumping footsteps against the floor.

"John, stoppit!" Bobby yells from the dining room.

"What _would_ your mother say!?" John growls, and then there's silence, as Bobby unwillingly drags John into the other room, "What would she fucking say? About her son being a fucking gay faggot!?"

Dean's legs don't work at all after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter up soon! 
> 
> *hint hint*...Dean & Cas' relationship will take a huge-ass step next chapter so get your safety helmets on.
> 
> Let me know how you guys are liking it! :)


	7. Destination: Castiel Milton's Hotel Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes off almost directly after the last one.
> 
>  
> 
> Buckle up, guys.

"Dean, wait."

Dean ignores it. There's too much going on his head right now to listen, let alone care.

"Dean!"

He feels a tight grip on his elbow, pulling him back. He turns, his eyes meeting his brother's; serious, but at the same time,  _scared._ Dean knows what his brother wants to do, but Dean  _doesn't_ want this emotional talk right now, especially with Sam. He just needs to  _simmer down._

"Sam, I'm not in the mood." Dean spits at him, his legs pulling him down the hotel hallway. Sam doesn't let go of his arm.

"Dean let's just talk about it—"

"There's nothing to talk about!" Dean interrupts him, his voice raging louder than he intends it to. His heart's pounding in his chest and he's not sure how much longer his ribs can take it. Sam stands in front of him, and soon his hand uncoils from Dean's arm.

Dean knows his brother means well. He does, really. But Sam  _should_ know that Dean's not, and will never be, the ' _talk out my feelings_ ' type. He just holds it all in, because its better for everyone else that way.

"Look," Sam starts, his chest rising up and down hesitantly, "I don't want to talk about this either, but—"

"Then don't!"

Sam's lips roll into a thin line, his eyes sinking. Dean sees Sam's chest deflate, as if he has been holding his breath for a long time and he just finally let it out. Dean wishes he could talk about it, he really does, but he just  _can't._ It's not  _who he is_. Or, maybe, he hasn't found someone who  _gets_ who he is.

Dean parts his lips, but Sam raises his chest again.

"Dammit, Dean, you're my brother," Sam scoffs an agitated laugh and shakes his head, "But sometimes, you can be  _such_ a  _jerk_." He says, and there's a seriousness to his tone, and Dean knows that Sam isn't joking around; that he's actually calling Dean a jerk.

Dean shuts his eyes and takes a breath, "That's my job, Sam—"

"Oh shut it, Dean," Sam hisses, his face scrunching into a unstrung glare, "I don't need any of your ' _I'm just not a talking-type of person'_ crap. You ever think that maybe  _that's_  the reason you're so angry all the time? Is because you never talk to people? I can't do anything unless you talk to me! It's just—"

Sam's voice breaks when the door next to them swings open. Sam stands up straight, his eyes widening like a deer in headlights.

Dean doesn't even need to turn to know who it is, but he does it anyways.

"Cas," Dean starts, but can't really finish his sentence. Cas is just standing there, his full, pink lips parted and eyebrows pyramiding at the top. In his  _goddamn_ black v-neck t-shirt that Dean likes, and those  _g_ _od for saken_ sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips. Like really, does the guy have anything else to wear?

"I-I," Castiel swallows, his gaze flicking between Dean and Sam, "I heard yelling. I wanted to make sure everyone was well."

"Not right now, Castiel," Sam exclaims, chewing on his lip. His voice is deeper than usual and his eyes refuse to look up to meet Castiel's.

On the other hand, Dean refuses to take his eyes  _away_ from Castiel's. A part of him is mad at him, for some reason, and he doesn't know why, but he is. Another part of him feels… something  _different._ His anger and his  _unknown_ feeling keep arguing with each other, bickering back and forth like an old married couple. Dean doesn't know which one will eventually win.

Castiel shakes his head slightly. "If you need my assistance, let me know and I'd be happy to—"

"Not right fucking now, Castiel!" Sam shouts, his voice loud and aggressive, and Dean sees Castiel flinch. Castiel swallows hard, and Dean realizes that he's  _scared._ His eyes blink rapidly, and at the moment, all Dean wants to do is just  _touch him._

Castiel nods, his eyes staring directly at his feet as he backs away slowly, shutting the door in front of him.

Its quiet for a few moments, and Dean looks at Sam like he had just committed a crime.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean whispers quietly, and Sam grinds his teeth, his eyebrows hollowing, "Why did you talk to him like that?"

Sam looks up, "This is between us. And us only."

"He was just trying to help."

"Since when do you want help?"

Dean holds his breath. Or,  _tries_  to hold his breath, but instead he realizes that all the breath has instead been sucked out of him, and he actually  _can't breathe._

"Shoot me a call when you're ready to talk like a mature human being." Sam says sternly. Dean doesn't even see him leave. He just stands in front of his room, his eyes searching endlessly, his lips twitching trying to find words to say. First Dad, now Sam.

What next?

His emotions are fucking around with him again, anger fighting with uncertainty, and now Dean feels like he's going to be sick. He just doesn't know what to do, and he doesn't know why.

_Suck it up. Just suck it up._

Dean lets out a huff, turning to let himself in his room. He grabs the knob, but then his head turns...to Cas' door. He's just staring at it,  _wanting to go in._ He grinds his teeth down, his jaw clenches tightly as he shakes his head.

"No," Dean whispers, forcing himself to open his own door. He lets himself in, and flops hard on the bed. He's got this nauseous feeling in the back of his throat and the feelings whipping around in his stomach still haven't come to an agreement.

And then his phone rings, stinging his ears so much he actually feels like they might be bleeding. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the name on the screen.

_Sexiest Fiancé Ever._

"Oh, well that's just peachy, isn't it?" Dean groans, and he sits up stretching his back as he flips his phone and holds it to his ear.

" _Dean?"_

"Hey, Lis." Dean rubs his forehead, and it's hot and sweaty and throbbing. He feels fucking  _disgusting._

" _John called."_

Dean's eyes go wider than they've ever been before. The sickness he felt only moments ago compares  _nothing_ to what he feels now. He parts his mouth to say something, but no words  _dare_ come out.

" _Who is it, Dean? Who's this...this guy?"_

Dean wants to hang up.  _God,_ he wants to hang up. But he's frozen there, his adrenaline surging rapidly through his veins.

"I-I, he's–" Dean makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. He's pushing the words out, he really is, but for some reason, they won't make a noise.

This is when Dean realizes there's no way out. There's no way in hell that he can make excuses through this. He's fucked up. He's lost Sam's ring, he's disappointed his brother, he's come out to his  _homophobic_ father, and now he's most likely lost Lisa, all because of an accidental spark of feeling that grew.

Dean swallows hard, and there's a moment that he feels like there's nails digging down his throat. And he sits on the edge of the bed, his chest rising and falling hesitantly, and he realizes...that there's nothing left to lose.

And he feels  _free._ There's so much to gain, so much to earn, so much to  _give._ It's back to square one now, and the freedom means he has to choose his own burden.

And this moment right now sure as hell isn't it.

"His name is Castiel."

" _Who is this? Dean, what have you done?"_

Dean stands up and shakes his head, "Lisa," He starts, an angered expression plastered onto his face, "I think we need to reevaluate our relationship."

Dean's eyes go wide.

_Did I actually just say that?_

Dean hears Lisa huff a sarcastic laugh. " _Are you fucking kidding me?"_  She raises her voice, and Dean's fingers wrap around the phone tighter.

"I just think—"

" _You wanna' call off the engagement for some guy? Since when are you into dick?!"_

Dean starts to see spots of red in his eyes again, and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself a little to prevent screaming and waking up half the hallways. "Look, I—"

" _I can't believe you, Dean! You've ruined this relationship!"_

Dean jaw drops. That was by far the most  _absurd_ thing Dean has ever heard in his  _life._  Now he's not  _just_  seeing shades of red, but he  _is_ red.

"Are you  _fucking_ insane?" Dean raises his voice unintentionally, " _I_ fucked up this relationship?  _Really_?"

Lisa doesn't respond.

There's so much anger seething through Dean's chest right now its almost unbearable, and there's no way of knowing what'll end up coming out of his mouth.

"At least I don't sleep with my boyfriends best friends! And then name my  _fucking kid_  after them!"

_Oh, shit._

Dean sucks in a breath.  _That_ was an accident. A cruel, cruel, accident. But  _holy shit,_ did that feel good. Dean covers his mouth, contemplating whether he should just throw his phone out the window and move to a different country and change his name.

" _That's it. I'm coming to California."_

Lisa hangs up.

Dean's stomach twists.

_Oh, shit. Oh fucking SHIT._

That  _actually_  just happened. Dean basically just  _broke up_ with Lisa.

Dean doesn't know if Lisa was kidding or not, but  _god_ he hopes so. He doesn't even want to think about what would happen if Lisa came up. That would be a nightmare that Dean would never wake up from.

Dean slams his phone and throws it against the wall. "Fuck!" He screams, his sweaty hands finding his even sweatier face and running them across it. He feels like his skin is burning, and he takes his jacket off, whipping that right across the room too. His arms are sweating, and Dean can feel it dripping down his back too. The grey t-shirt does little to hide the water-marks on his skin.

Dean just needs to  _throw something._

He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out his cluttered wallet and throwing it against the wall, sending little pieces of paper and money flying out of it.

And also, a picture.

Dean's head turns toward the upside-down folded picture, ends crinkled. His chest is heaving, and he walks slowly over towards it, picking it up and running his thumb over the newly formed creases in the smooth surface.

Him and Cas.

Dean forgets why he's mad, and instead reminds himself that he has  _nothing left to lose._ Nothing left to gamble; nothing important anyways. His lip twitches into a small smile, that soon leads him stomping out the door and knocking hard on the door next to his.

Dean really doesn't know what he's doing, but he can't seem to stop.

The door swings open, and Castiel looks almost frightened, his lips parted and eyes wide.

"Dean?" He says, his voice broken and confused. And Dean can't blame him, considering what he had seen between him and Sam. Castiel stares at him waiting for a response. But Dean doesn't have one.

There's no use in talking if that's not what he  _wants_  to do.

So instead, he does exactly what he  _wants_  to do.

And he doesn't hesitate doing it either.

He grabs the sides of Castiel's face and kisses him.

Castiel gasps, and Dean feels him tighten underneath his fingers. And it's short, lasting only a second to Dean, but his lips taste and feel  _exactly_ like what Dean had imagined; sweet like honey, although soft, and  _dangerous._  His heart is only seconds away from bursting through his chest, and he hears this rapid pulse in his ears, like beating wings.

But in the moment their lips touched, Dean knew that the feelings in his stomach had finally come to an agreement.

Dean pulls away, his fingers still cupped around the sides of Castiel's face, tingling above the thin stubble coated across his flexed jaw.

Castiel's eyes are wide, his pupils leaving only a line of the glistening blue, and his lips are frozen, wet and parted. His mouth twitches to say something, but nothing comes out, and Castiel just stares at him.

"Do you want—" Dean swallows, inches away from Castiel's face, so close he can see his own reflection in Castiel's eyes, "—do you want me to do it again?"

As  _if_  that was really a question.

"Please."

Dean hooks his hands around the back of Castiel's neck, pulling his face in, this time making their bodies press up against each other enough that Dean feels the heat radiating off his skin. Castiel seems to melt against him, his tongue pushing into Dean's mouth slowly.

Castiel intertwines his hands into the collar of Dean's shirt, grabbing it and pulling him back into the room. Dean's got this feeling in the center of his chest that he's never experienced before, and it's driving him  _crazy,_ making his hands run over Castiel's body like he can't get enough of the feel of skin underneath his fingers.

And it's just  _Cas._ The one person Dean's been most aching to feel against him. The one person who's eyes are so unexplainably different, the one who's voice is so strange and wild, the one who has the weirdest, most dangerously attractive hair that it wrecks him. All of it. It  _wrecks_ him.

Dean's hands start at Castiel's shoulders, but then caress down his back and to his hips, and soon he's resting his hands just above the cleft of Castiels' ass, pulling the man's hips closer to his own.

And then Dean feels it. Cas is  _really hard._ He can feel Castiel's cock jutting hard through his sweatpants.

And then Dean realizes that he  _himself_ is hard too, and soon both of their hardened cocks are rutting against each other through thick material. And it's  _strange._ Dean's not used to it.  _Hell,_ he's never done it. But somehow, the feeling he has is something he knows no girl could ever provide.

Dean presses Castiel against the wall, both hands climbing underneath the shirt as he dips down to lick the stubble on Castiel's neck. Dean's tongue swirls, sucking in skin, claiming  _his_ territory.

Castiel lets out a shaken breath, "Dean…" He whimpers quietly under his breath, and Dean feels Castiel's hands roughly entwine into his hair, "What about your girlf—"

"It's over, Cas." Dean separates his mouth from Castiel's skin for only a few seconds, but a few seconds is too long for Dean, and he starts biting at his neck again, "It's just you." He murmurs in between tender kisses, "I want  _you_."

Castiel doesn't reply, but instead thrusts his hips forward against Dean's, and  _Jesus Christ,_ Dean feels like a fucking animal, clawing and biting at Castiel's skin. Dean bends to hook his arms under Castiel's legs, heaving him up around his waist. Dean places chaste kisses on his shoulders, skin soft like feathers against his tongue.

"Bed?" Dean motions, and Castiel just nods his head and smiles, planting another wet kiss onto Dean's open lips. Dean carries him, hands wrapped tightly around the man's ass as he lays him down on the bed, Dean's chest falling on top of Castiel's. The bed squeaks roughly, but soon Dean's lips are on his again, sucking on his tongue and lips, happy to finally feel what Castiel  _tastes_  like, what he  _feels_  like.

Dean shivers at the sudden feeling of hands crawling up his back, riding up his shirt and begging for it to be taken off. Dean obliges, letting Castiel roll off his shirt where his eyes then trail over Dean's body like it's a golden treasure. His hands soon follow his eyes, over his chest and abdomen, and soon Castiel's hands grasp Dean's hips and twists him over so now  _Castiel_ is on top.

And  _holy fucking shit._

"Jesus, Cas." Dean sucks in a breath and watches as Castiel straddles him, rolling his own shirt up and exposing smooth and tanned skin, which Dean's hands are on only moments after exposure. Dean can't seem to take his eyes away. Castiel is honest to God,  _fucking beautiful._ His flattened out abdomen slightly flexed, showing the outlines of muscle, the small trail of darkened hair leading down into his pants. The way his tongue is darting out to wet his swollen lips, the flushed pink of his face, his eyelashes fluttering dark and long on top of those eyes. He's  _gorgeous._

Castiel leans down and presses their chests together, and Dean feels Castiel's beating heart through his skin. They're kissing again, swiftly, but hungrily and passionately, like they both  _wanted_  this, like they both  _needed_ this.

Dean's hands trail down his sides and to the front of Castiel's pants, and Dean hesitates at first to slide them down, almost as if he's  _unaware_  of what's going to happen when he does. But Dean wants this more than anything in the world right now, and his thumbs hook around the fabric, sliding them down, only to discover that Castiel had no  _fucking underwear on._

_Son of a fuck._

Dean takes a gasp when he feels Castiel's bare cock ride against his stomach, wet and slippery from pre-come, and Dean almost doesn't want to look down, but he does. And it's actually kind of fucking  _hot._

"Holy shit," Dean groans, a small whimper escaping his mouth when he see's the pink and swollen tip of Castiel's cock, his throbbing length, which is actually  _way_ bigger than expected. Dean swallows, wrapping his shaking hands around his pulsing cock and stroking upward, receiving a moan from the man on top of him.

"Oh God," Castiel cries, his hand clamping on Dean's chest, " _Yes,_ faster, please." He murmurs, voice rough and hard, yet quiet and demanding.

Dean moves his hand down back to the base of Castiel's cock, to the small patch of hair at the base, and he feels Castiel's nails begin to dig into his skin. Dean begins stroking him, starting off slow and letting himself get used to the feel of a cock other than his own in his hand. Castiel moans loudly, and Dean feels his own cock twitch. His pants need to be  _off._ Now.

Dean isn't going to settle for a second base date. No, he  _needs_ to be  _inside_ him, and at the moment, if Dean doesn't get inside him quick, he just might in fact, die. There's aching desire in his belly, a warm tingling set into the center of his core that needs to come out.

Castiel leans down again, taking Dean's neck into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl against the skin. Dean lets out a breath at the feeling of Castiel being so close, and he scratches at Castiel's back. Castiel bites and nibbles, making his way up to Dean's ear and taking the lobe into his mouth, sucking and swirling. Dean feels fingers toying with his jeans and lends a helping hand, unhinging the metal clamps separating their skin from one another. And soon, clothes are being piled up at the end of Castiel's bed.

Castiel's mouth moves from his ear, taking a big step to his collar bone next, and Dean throws his head back against the pillows, deciding to let Castiel just  _do his thing._

Castiel's teeth graze against his nipples, and Dean's back arches into him, the feeling of Castiel's tongue against his skin unbelievably mind-blowing.

Dean hisses through his teeth when he feels Castiel go lower, and now Cas is nipping at the edges of his hipbones. Red, rough marks are being placed against Dean's skin, and Cas' hand slips down from where it was placed at his hipbones, and he places it at the bulge in Dean's boxer briefs.

"Shit," Dean breathes when he feels Castiel hook his thumbs around the tight spandex, pulling it down and letting Dean's cock spring free. Dean bites down on his bottom lip, almost slightly embarrassed at the exposure. But he hears Cas suck in a breath and he props his head up.

 _Shit_.

Cas is knelt down, ass in the air as his head tilts up at Dean, one hand wrapped tightly around Dean's cock, and the other placed on Dean's inner thigh.

_If he's doing what I think he's doing..._

"Oh, fuck!" Dean shouts as Cas dips his head without warning, his mouth wet and warm and circled around the head of Dean's cock. All Dean can do at this point is just hold on tight.

Dean lurches forward as if he had gotten punched in the stomach, his body twitching and inadvertently grabbing the back of Castiel's head to push him down farther.

"Holy  _Christ_ , Castiel!" Dean moans, his body falling back against the bed, his back arched and hand intertwined roughly into the back of Castiel's head. And Cas  _stays_ down, his mouth engulfing Dean's length for what seems like forever. Dean lets out a breathless moan when he feels his cock hit the back of Castiel's throat, but Castiel doesn't budge. His tongue presses against the sensitive underside of Dean's cock, and Dean thinks he might just come down Castiel's throat then and there.

Castiel moves his head off of Dean's cock, and Dean shivers at the cool air that hit's his erection. "Shit, Cas. You can deep throat?" Dean asks shockingly, and Castiel's hand runs up Dean's length again to spread his saliva.

"You like that, huh?" Castiel whispers deeply, his lips skimming the tip of Dean's cock. Dean sucks a breath in through his teeth, gazing at Castiel's shimmering blue eyes staring up at him.

"Do it again, " Dean breathes, barely being able to choke out the words, " _Please_." He begs, and  _goddammit,_ he doesn't care about what happens to him anymore. He  _wants_  to be sore. He wants the hickeys, the bruises, the scratch marks. If this is a roller coaster going straight down to hell,  _god-fucking-dammit,_ Dean doesn't care if he's in the front seat or not.

Castiel smiles slightly, and then dips his head down, licking a stripe from the base of Dean's cock to the top, and then taking the swollen head into his mouth. Dean groans, his head falling back against the bed again as Castiel bobs his head forward down until the top of Dean's cock brushes the back of his throat. And he goes back up, and then down. And up, and down. And up, and down until Dean's legs are  _shaking_.

Castiel comes up for a breath of air, his lips shiny and wet, "Jesus, Dean, you're huge." He groans, lowering his head again and taking his length down his mouth before Dean even has a chance to thank him, and what ends up coming out of his mouth instead is a choked out, muffled gasp for air.

Castiel gets his hands involved now, one hand fondling Dean's balls as the other follows his mouth moving up and down. And it is, by  _far,_ the best blow job Dean has ever gotten. The way Castiel is looking up at him, paying so close attention to Dean's movements yet so lost in his technique. Castiel slicks his tongue around the head and pushes it past the slit, licking up salty pre come as his lips enclose around it. He bobs downward again, swallowing Dean's cock until his nose is merely brushing against Dean's belly.

Dean shouts as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from coming.

And then Dean feels it, the start of his peak, but he won't allow himself to come now.

Not  _yet_.

"Cas," Dean reluctantly hooks his hands under Castiel's shoulders, hoisting him forward until Castiel's lips meet his. Dean opens his mouth and let's Castiel's tongue slip in, tasting musk and salt against his own tongue. Dean parts his lips from his, "Cas I need you." He whispers against his lips quietly.

Castiel moves to Dean's neck, "You've got me," He says, nipping at Dean neck again, his cock brushing Dean's and only making his desire worsen.

"No, Cas, you don't understand." Dean grabs Castiel's shoulders, twists him around and presses him hard into the bed and switching their positions, "I need to–"

"Fuck me?"

Dean's spine stiffens. His cock is pressing hot and heavy into Castiel's ass, and he places his hands to Castiel's inner knees, spreading them apart on either side.

"C-Can I?" Dean asks, his heart beat picking up rapidly. Dean needs this, so absolutely fucking  _bad._ He needs to find the calm in the storm, he needs to let his feelings go, needs to accept the fact that he just may want to be with Castiel for more than just a hookup.

Castiel's chest hitches, "Please, Dean."

_Holy fuck._

Dean smiles, hungrily invading Castiel's mouth again with his tongue, sucking on his bottom lip and taking it in between his teeth. There's a burning heat in his core, and he parts his lips from Castiel.

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

"Side dresser, second drawer."

Dean's eyes widen. Had he  _prepared_ for this? Dean shakes his head and ignores the questions going through his mind, leaning over to the side dresser and pulling out a condom and a small bottle of lube. Dean swallows, squirting a small amount of lube onto his hand;  _this is it._ This is what Dean's been waiting for since the moment he got off the God forsaken airplane.

"Wait," Castiel exclaims, his hand pressing against Dean's chest, "I need to...warm up."

Dean furrows his brow, "Warm up? You mean like–"

"I haven't done this in a while."

Oh.

_Oh._

Dean sucks a breath in.  _Now_  he know's what Castiel means. Dean looks at the drops of lube in his hands, and then he coats one of his fingers, placing it delicately near Castiel's hole. Castiel hisses.

"Is one finger okay?" Dean asks nervously, leaning forward a little until he had access to Castiel's neck, swirling his tongue around the prickly skin. Castiel nods, and Dean takes a breath before pushing his finger in. It's warm, and tight, and  _strange,_ but also  _fucking amazing._ Dean's sure he groans louder than Castiel does when the base of his slick finger touches Castiel's ass.

"Oh  _Dean_ ," Castiel moans, his hand tightening around the back of Dean's neck, crushing Dean's face into Castiel's chest. Dean slowly pulls his finger out and then hastily thrusts it back in, his movements becoming quicker and quicker each time he pushes in until one finger isn't enough, and Dean decides it's a good time to push in another finger. Castiel lets out the most delicate moan as Dean sinks his fingers inside him, slick and fast and  _wanting._

Dean bites down on his tongue, the sight of Castiel's squirming movements beneath him driving him crazy. Dean thinks for a second, and wonders if Castiel will react the same way a girl would if he curls his fingers. And he does, scissoring inside Castiel for a few more moments until he crooks his fingers, and feels a small bump a little deeper inside him.

" _Fuck_!" Castiel screams, his back arching almost completely off the bed as his fingers dig into the frail skin of Dean's back, "Dean! Right there!"

The groaning in Dean's ear is getting him closer to his orgasm, the deep, gravely tone of Castiel's whimpers filling Dean's head. He adds a third finger now, following Castiel's request and crooking his fingers like he did before, finding Castiel's sweet spot every time Dean pushes his fingers back in. His slick fingers slide easily inside Castiel now, and Dean's thrusts become more rapid and eager.

Dean kisses Castiel's chest, sucking sweetly at his skin before he finds his nipple and takes it lightly between his teeth. Dean feels the man beneath him begin to tremble.

" _Nnngg_...Dean!" Castiel squirms beneath him, his nails looking for anything to dig into, and eventually find Dean's hair, "Dean, please! I-I need you."

It's hard for Dean to talk, but that's all Dean needs to hear for him to pull his fingers out and get in front of Castiel, hips pressing into Castiel's bare ass. Castiel is breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling swiftly.

"Been wantin' this so bad, Cas." Dean kisses Castiel's temple as he rolls the condom onto himself, "So fuckin' bad." He groans, pressing his chest to Castiel's, finding a rapid heart beat echo through his core, and he doesn't know whether it's his or Castiel's. Dean takes his throbbing erection into his hand, lube spreading slick around his cock as he lines it up near Castiel's entrance.

And it's almost damn near impossible to hold back the urge to shove himself in, to give Castiel everything he's got. But he relaxes, and lets himself enjoy what he's been waiting for, just rubbing his sleek cock-head against the teased hole.

"Dean,  _please._ " Castiel whimpers, hands gripping the bedsheets and his hips thrusting forward, "I can't wait anymore. Please." He begs, and the corner of Dean's lips curl; knowing that  _this_ feeling of fury and passion, is  _mutual._

And that was it for Dean. He feels the fiery, fervent need for him to be inside Cas, and he pushes into Castiel's slow but hard, being engulfed by the tightness and warmth.

"Holy fucking  _Christ_ ," Dean breathes, his breath ragged and broken by the height of pleasure, "Fuck, Cas, you're so tight."

Castiel's lips are parted when he lets out a breathless moan, clamping his fingers around Dean's hips, "Fuck me, Dean. Please fuck me,"

Dean waits until the base of his cock sinks in, tight and deep, before he begins rolling his hips, one hand gripping the top of the headboard to gain leverage. Dean pulls out slowly, in fear of coming to quickly, but all he really wants to do his screw the  _shit_ out of the dude. Castiel's head rolls back, exposing marked skin, purple and red from Dean, and he's squirming and spreading his legs wider.

"Is this okay?" Dean asks, quiet and soothing. He's almost a little embarrassed from asking, but he can't be too sure. Castiel smiles and nods.

" _Very_  okay," He starts, breath hitching and cracking, "Just  _move_."

Finally, Dean thrusts back in and Castiel cries out, one hand tightly clamped around Dean's hip, the other held so unbearably hard onto his right shoulder. And as Dean continues to move, he realizes that  _this_ is  _so_ much better than anything he's ever felt.

Dean feels Castiel's urgency, his desire, but Dean doesn't let him. Castiel has been  _torturing_ him for what seems like  _years,_ although it's only been  _days_. Castiel's hips are jutting upwards towards Dean, meeting Dean's thrusts as he goes down, slow and steady against Dean's slick cock. Dean leans down to kiss him, picking up his pace as he rolls his hips into Cas, but Castiel is so lost, so in the moment that he can hardly kiss back, and he's just letting out ragged, choking moans.

" _Yes_ ," Cas groans, biting his bottom lip, "Oh,  _yes,_ Dean. It-It's so good... _god yes_!" _  
_

Dean wills himself not to come. Listening to Castiel  _plead_ , to  _beg,_ to  _squirm_ , to  _shake_  beneath him is what Dean's been aching for, and he can't hold into his pace anymore, and he starts rolling his hips faster, the smacking sound of skin on skin echoing the room.

Castiel's legs continue to spread wider, allowing Dean to go deeper. And soon the bed is fucking  _squeaking,_ the top of the headboard banging slightly against the wall as Dean presses his cock inside him. Dean's arms begin to shake, and it's so painfully tantalizing to keep his orgasm in for this long, when in all truth, he could've easily come ten minutes ago.

Castiel wraps his legs around Dean's back, pressing their chests together and Dean feels the wetness of Castiel's cock trapped between him against his belly. Dean eyes him, his lips parted and swollen, trembling every time Dean pushes in, and Dean takes the opportunity, shoving his tongue between his lips. Castiel can barely stifle his moans, and he's groaning into Dean's mouth as Dean's hips pound against him.

Castiel leans back, pressing their foreheads together, "Faster, Dean.  _Harder_."

Dean sucks in a breath, but follows his command, picking up his speed, and now he's fucking into him so hard he thinks they might just in fact break the bed. Dean thrusts deeper, until he hits Castiel's sweet spot again, and Castiel's back arches off the bed, whimpering.

"Right there!" Cas gasps, his hand pulling at Dean's hair, "Oh yes,  _just_ like that!" He cries.

Dean feels the familiar twinge in his core, "Cas, I-I'm gonna come, I-I–"

"Come for me, Dean." Castiel whispers, with that  _damn_ voice that's been driving Dean crazy. Dean hovers his lips over Castiel's, breathing and gasping against his lips as he uses whatever power left in his body to keep pounding into him; tight and warm, Cas clenching his muscles around Dean's cock. Castiel bucks his hips up, trying to close every inch of air between them, and Dean feels the hot, sticky mess between them, Castiel's shaking hips against his own.

"Shit," Dean starts gasping for air, "Oh, fuck, Cas.  _Fuck_!" His vision starts to blur, the room is almost spinning and now he's just letting his body take over, his hips stuttering into the heat of Castiel's ass, his lungs heaving for air, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly. Dean's noises become unrecognizable, and now the only thing he manages to whimper out his Castiel's name; over and over again until it's just a broken breath for air.

Dean turns into a groaning mess, his jaw clenching, legs shaking, arms trembling. Dean's giving Castiel all he's got now, his hips smacking against the man beneath him. His cock is throbbing inside Castiel, and when Cas clenches his muscles around him, the tightness around Dean's cock increasing, Dean fucking  _loses it._ Castiel attacks Dean's neck, bites and licks across his skin as Dean comes hard into his ass with thick, hot spurts.

Dean's breathing resides, until his arms decide they've had enough for the night and give out. Dean's chest falls on top of Castiel's, and he feels something sticky and hot between their chests.

_Shit._

Dean didn't even realize Cas had come already. He'd been so  _lost,_ so far from reality that he had almost passed out from coming so hard. Speaking of which; Dean's chest is still heaving in and out with shallow and ragged breaths, and soon, both their breathing syncs.

And as Dean lays on top of the man who had most likely just given him the best orgasm of his life, he realizes two things.

1\. He just fucked the absolute  _shit_ out of Castiel Milton.

2\. He is:  _so fucking screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how you guys liked this chapter!!!!
> 
> This chapter, or more...sex scene, has been a work in progress for a LONG time now because I wanted to make it as good as I possibly could.
> 
> Update soon :)


	8. Destination: Inside the Mind of Castiel Milton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying this out as an experiment...
> 
> This chapter is set in Castiel's point of view.

Freckles.

All 223 or so, of them. Of course, that was only an estimate.

It had taken him some time to attempt to count them all, and sometimes he would lose count and have to start over. But Castiel didn't mind re-counting. Not even in the slightest bit.

Not to mention it was hard to not urge himself to reach out to Dean's face while he was still sleeping and brush his thumb over his speckled cheeks.

No, it isn't that fact that Dean is so _beautiful_ , or the fact that Dean looks more adorable when he's sleeping—no, it's just the fact that it's _Dean._ Dean's in front of him, just _there,_ chest rising slowly, eyelashes twitching, lips parted. And there's no one in the world that Castiel would rather be with.

Castiel rubs his eyes and blinks, staring at Dean harder and debating whether this is just a dream, or it's real life. It feels hazy, vague, unclear. It's all so _translucent._ But when Castiel shifts slightly in the bed, he _feels_ it.

The soreness, the cramps.

And he _sees_ it.

The scratches, the hickies, _oh_ _god_ the hickies; strategically placed all over Dean's neck and collarbone, even a few leading down his chest, and one directly next to his belly-button which makes Castiel giggle. Castiel assumes that there's _more,_ but he doesn't want to risk moving the thin sheet covering Dean's junk at the moment. It's too beautiful of a sight to touch.

_No, not a dream._

Castiel runs fingers through his messy hair, still trying to process the fact that it is _real._ That all of it, is _real._ He had slept with Dean fucking Winchester. And it was _real._ _  
_

Well, it's not like Castiel didn't know about Dean's attraction toward him. Of course he had heard _Dean_ that one night from the other side of the wall. Castiel laughs to himself, because if Dean was trying to be quiet, he failed miserably. But of course, Dean's big-ass mouth wasn't a complete and total failure. At least Castiel discovered he wasn't alone in this whole _thing_ that him and Dean share. As if the sexual tension hadn't been bad enough, it definitely increased after that.

Playing the clueless Castiel wasn't as easy as he'd thought it would be. Walking into Dean's room the next morning pretending that he had heard nothing was one of the hardest thing's he'd ever had to do.

But no, _that_ was _nothing_ compared to _this_. Everything is still foggy, leaving only the marks on their skin to confirm what happened last night was real. Castiel palms his hands on his face, fingers parting and eyes peaking out slightly to look at Dean as he takes deep breaths.

Castiel's lip twitches into a smile. He _never_ thought Dean would be interested back; that is was just a one-sided thing, like it usually goes. From the moment Castiel saw him at the airport, he _wanted_ him. Oh _god,_ he wanted him. No matter how hard he tried to push himself away, his body wouldn't let his mind win. Of course, his mind wasn't really thinking quite at all when he threw himself at Dean at the security line. What an _awful_ idea to start a conversation. Of course, getting him sent to the back of the line was not in Castiel's intention at all, but he has his dick to blame for that.

But most importantly, he has _Gabe_ to blame for that.

* * *

_"Okay, Cassie. Just go up to him in line and hand him the five, tell him it fell out of his back pocket." Gabe had said, handing Castiel a five dollar bill, eyes mischievously on the man waiting patiently in line._

_Castiel had reluctantly taken the money, smoothing down his trench coat. "But-but, what if he never had money in his back pocket?"_

_Gabe rolled his eyes. "Oh God Almighty, just do it! Flirt it up a bit. Maybe slip in front of him in line?"_

_"What if his preference is not men?"_

_Gabe shoved his shoulder. "Bro, my_ gay-dar _is going crazy. Didn't you see him check out that pilot's ass?"_

_"I'm not sure about this, Gabriel. My-my people skills," Castiel shook his head, "They're a bit rusty."_

_Gabe murmured something under his breath that Castiel couldn't hear, but Gabe's hands were quickly on Castiel's back, pushing him towards the man's direction._

_"Do it, Castiel!"_

_They get closer to the man in line now, so close that Castiel could see the highlights of silky blonde in his light brown hair. "Gabe!" Castiel loudly whispered, his shoes slipping and sliding across tile._

_"Well if you're not gonna do it by yourself, you need a little_ push _...literally_ _!"_

_Of course, a little push turned into quite a big one. So much in fact that Castiel had tripped over his own shoes, falling right on top of the one man he was mainly trying to avoid._

_Castiel keeled a little, his back stiffening when he recovered from his fall, turning around only to see Gabriel scurrying away from line. Castiel sucked in a breath, "Dammit, Gabriel." He whispered to himself._

_He froze when the man looked up to him, green eyes beautiful yet terrifying._

_"What the hell, dude?" The man said, rubbing his face.  
_

_Castiel parted his mouth, but nothing came out. The guy, now seething with anger, reached an arm out to give Castiel a little shove._

_Once again, a little push turned into a big one._

_And Castiel went tumbling down, right next to the security guard behind him._

_"Hey! What's going on here?"_

_Castiel swallowed. His mind was a total blank, face flushed and red from embarrassment. But no, it had to get worse when Castiel opened his goddamn mouth._

_"I-I was just in line. They-uh, called next." He said, and then immediately slammed his mouth shut.  
_

What the fuck, Castiel? What the fuck was that?! _He had thought, getting the urge to slam his hand on his face. So much for his attempt at flirting.  
_

_And that was the moment Castiel had known that the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life was going to hate him._

_Gabe had texted him about half hour later._

_**_Sorry bro...next time. Michael will be waiting for you at baggage claim when you get out, and I'll be there soon. Gonna take Baby to Cali instead. P.s...you can keep the five._ ** _

_Well, at least he got to skip the security line. And, he got five dollars._

* * *

But of course, Castiel proved himself wrong, and had basically just slept with the man of his dreams. Lord knows _how,_ but he did.

With a smile as wide as the sun, Castiel stands from the bed, feeling a chill run up his spine when he realizes he has no clothes on. Well, at least that's one more conformation of last night.

He tiptoes over to the bathroom, eyes never leaving the flushed body that lays in his bed. The smile on his face never leaves either.

Although, when he gets to the bathroom and looks in the mirror, that's when his smile fades.

People at his office are going to think he was _beat up,_ better yet _attacked._ The bright purple and red hickey on the left side of his neck stands out quite well from his paled skin. The others aren't _as_ noticeable; still noticeable, yes, but not _as noticeable._ There's a red line on his right pectoral muscle that after a while Cas concludes is a scratch mark. And there's plenty more where that came from too; another on his abdomen, and inner thigh, along with a few on his forearm that Cas remembers is from Dean digging his nails into his skin.

_Oh, Jesus._

Last night was a rough night. Cas takes a breath, starting the shower up. He almost doesn't want to clean himself off, in fear of losing Dean's scent, his _touch._ But no, Castiel needs to shower, because he's pretty sure the dried-up white stuff on his stomach isn't frosting.

The hot water burns a little, and Cas cringes when the heat touches his newly formed marks. The water drips down his eyes, leaving bubbled water on his eyelashes. Cas runs a hand through his hair, across his arms and legs; and every movement is slow and weary. His body hasn't realized it yet. His body hasn't realized what he's feeling.

And he's confused. Happy yes, but confused. He feels like he's known Dean forever, even if it's only been days. He feels like Dean is someone important in his life, someone he has this _profound bond_ to, some sort of _link._ It's exhilarating, leaving every one of Castiel's nerves on edge. But nevertheless, confusing.

All Castiel knows at the moment, is that he likes Dean Winchester. A lot.

He takes a short shower, hoping out and wrapping a towel around the points of his hips. He runs a hand over his face when he hears a soft echo.

A soft echo that gets a little louder the more Castiel draws his ears in.

And soon Castiel is frantically running on the tips of his toes out the bathroom, drops of water flying everywhere in the room to go stop his fucking _phone_ from waking up sleeping beauty.

Which, thankfully, it doesn't. Castiel grabs it and runs back into the bathroom, flipping it open and holding it to his ear.

"Gabriel," Castiel murmurs quietly, his heart beat calming down a little.

_"Bro, where are you? Thought we scheduled lunch before the meeting?"_

_Shit._

Cas leans over the sink, "What time is it?"

Gabe laughs for a second, _"One?"_

Cas's eyes go wide.

_ONE? I SLEPT UNTIL ONE?_

Cas swallows, his lips parting soon after and stuttering faint words out of his mouth, "I-I seemed to have lost track of time, I-uh—" _  
_

_"Woah, woah, woah,"_ Gabe cuts him off, voice rough and rigid, _"Did something happen?"_

Cas doesn't answer his question. "How short can you get here?"

_"I can be there in ten."_

"Front lot. I'll be outside."

Cas hangs up quickly, dropping the towel on his hips and tip-toeing outside the bathroom again and over to the dresser. Dean hasn't moved a muscle, which makes Castiel laugh because _wow,_ last night must've been one hell of an evening to make him this tired. And Castiel can't blame him. Dean _went hard._

Castiel attempts to ignore the butterflies and possibly slight boner he may have just gotten from the recollection. He pulls out a pair of briefs and a pair of black dress pants, hurdling them over himself as he keeps his eyes locked hard on Dean.

And Castiel doesn't know why he's questioning _this_ at the moment, but now, Castiel is curious as to _Dean's tattoo._ Lord knows why he didn't really pay attention to it last night, but Castiel was so caught up in just the fact that it was _Dean,_ that he was too busy to notice all the little details.

However this, isn't a little detail. Inked black on his left pectoral muscle, is a design Castiel had never seen before. Nevertheless, it still looks fucking hot on Dean anyways. _  
_

The pants stick to Castiel's legs slightly, still wet from his shower, and the white dress shirt is even worse, patches of wet spots on his abdomen causing the shirt to become transparent. The tie around his neck goes on easily, and the black jacket soon follows. Castiel smooths down the lapels and quietly grabs his trench coat before running off. His hair is a _disaster_ ; wet and draped over his eyelashes, but also stuck up in all different directions in the back.

The hickies, Castiel decides, can be dealt with later.

Castiel smirks, hand brushing over his damp neck as he walks to the side of the bed. And its peaceful, watching Dean. It's _comfortable._ Like being curled up in blankets in mid-winter, warm mug wrapped tight in your hands, sitting by the fire as the smells of cinnamon and autumn fill the air. Like _home_.

Castiel doesn't want to leave. He can spend forever next to him, tight and heated against his body. Castiel can still feel the heat from his skin, on the tips of his fingers. And ever so slowly, Castiel reaches his hand out, his thumb skimming soft skin against Dean's cheek. And he feels the sudden urge to _cry._ It hits him out of nowhere, actually, and it's quite weird, so weird that Castiel doesn't know what to do. He's never had this _feeling_ before.

Castiel retreats his thumb back, sucking in a shaken breath.

It's difficult to walk out of the bedroom, but knowing that Dean will still be within walls when he gets back is enough to give him the little push he needs to walk out. He stops at the kitchen counter, though, pen and paper in hand.

He writes for a while, soon then leaving the pad of paper in eye view for Dean to see when he wakes up.

* * *

"If you were any more purple, you'd be Barney."

Castiel plays with the salt shaker on the table. He takes a moment to linger his eyes around the restaurant before he scratches the back of his neck and lets out a huff. "So, it's evident then?"

Gabe just squints his eyes at him.

Castiel nods.

"Words gonna' go 'round the office." Gabe _tsks_ , and then picks up his silver fork and begins tapping it on his plate annoyingly, "Anna's gonna' find out."

Castiel rolls his eyes. _Anna_ is the _least_ of his concerns. Yeah yeah, she'd most likely hound him all day long and ask him questions until he implodes, but that isn't half as bad as the person he _is_ worried about.

Gabe clears his throat again. " _Shitlord's_ gonna' find out."

Yeah, _that's_ the problem. Michael Milton, or as Gabe likes to call him, _Shitlord_ , will most definitely not approve of Castiel's marks. The second his douche of a brother sees, he's going to go yapping off to mommy. And if Naomi finds out, that won't be good. Oh, that won't be good _at all._ Especially when she finds out they're from a _guy._

Michael's big mouth and attitude is the main reason Castiel only sees him once every six months. Well, the _real reason_ he never sees Michael, is because Michael never wants to _see him._ His big mouth and attitude was a part of it, though. Castiel can understand, however, that it is a bit difficult to keep your mouth shut after you walk in on your brother having sex with another dude. But, Castiel can never understand why Michael _still_ hasn't gotten over it, after ten years. Castiel was 34 for Christ sake, he'd expect that his elder brother would've sucked it up by now.

But no, of course not. Michael went blabbing to Naomi, or as Gabe likes to call her, _Satan's Mistress._ Being the overly-religious family that they are, Naomi didn't like that. Not at all. And she made that _clear._ _  
_

Castiel bites his lip when he realizes he's thinking too much. "What do I do?" He asks Gabriel, his brother's attention directed toward the young waiter by the corner table. Castiel snaps his hand in Gabe's face, "You're drooling."

"Hm?" Gabe turns, eyes glassy and dazed.

"You should really attempt to find someone."

Gabe looks down at his uneaten steak and shakes his head. "No. I'm a one-man wolf pack. I'm goin' _Han Solo,_ bro." He smirks, pulling out a lollipop from his pocket and sticking it in his mouth.

"And Sam?"

Gabe's head shoots forward, eyes and brows furrowed sharply, "What about Sam?" He says defensively.

"You told me you were interested." Castiel says, tilting his head.

"Nuh-uh." Gabriel responds quickly, a quick shake of his head, the white lollipop stick hangs low out of his lips.

Castiel squints his eyes, remembering quite well what Gabe had whispered in his ear the morning that they all just-so-happened to be in Dean's hotel room:

_"Don't be surprised if the next time you see Sammy boy here, he's walking funny. And the next time I see you, you'd better be walking funny too."_

Of course, Castiel had only shaken his head at his brother's overly-cocky demeanor, but also blushed at the snarky comment about Dean. At least one of those things can be checked off the list.

"Have you given up?" Castiel remarks, and Gabriel leans back into the wooden chair, hands crossed firmly over his chest.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Gabe smirks to himself, and Castiel knows he must be coming up with one of his devious plans. One of his devious plans that will most likely end in disaster. Gabe huffs, "So anyways, Dean?"

Castiel swallows. Even just the sound of his name brings a massive swarm of butterflies. "What about him?"

"How _was_ he?"

Castiel scratches his neck. It's hard to think and suddenly the air becomes a lot thicker than Castiel remembers it being. Although, it's not really hard to think of an answer, considering he has _so many._ It's just hard to express the _so many_ into _very little._

"He was... _astounding._ " Castiel says slowly. It almost angers him that he didn't say more, because he can really go on forever. And not just about how Dean _was_ last night, but how he _is_ in general. There's no amount of words that Castiel could use to describe him. Well, more or less, he doesn't really know _how_ to describe him, but also at the same time, he also kind'ave _does._

"So, you're saying he's—"

"Different." Castiel interrupts with a slight nod, "He's different."

Gabe's face contorts into a confused glare. "So, is that a good thing?"

Castiel doesn't respond, instead waving his hand over to call the attention of the nearest waiter.

"Check please!" He calls, a big wide grin plastered onto his face.

* * *

"You have to take my scarf, Castiel."

"But it's... _sparkly_."

Anna shoves the shimmering blue scarf into Castiel's hands. "Take it!" She yells at him, her eyes penetratingly serious. Castiel reluctantly takes the scarf. At least it matches his tie.

Castiel huffs and ties it around his neck, burying the ends into his dress shirt. He can feel his cheeks turning a deep pink.

_Just remember, it could be worse._

Anna sucks in her bottom lip as she gives Castiel a once over, and Castiel feels like he's being judged by the whole world. And then there's Gabriel, leaning back with his feet propped up on the desk in Castiel's leather chair, grinning from ear to ear.

"Feet off my desk." Castiel raises his eyebrows at him, a finger pointing sturdy at his smiling face.

Gabe kicks his feet off. "A'ight boss." He chuckles, his attention reverting to the neatly organized pens on the desk, moving them out of order the way he knows will piss Castiel off.

Castiel rolls his eyes. Neither of his siblings are making things any better whatsoever. He's got Gabriel smiling like an idiot, and then there's Anna giving him the judgmental ' _oh you're such a slut'_ glare. _Lord_ knows what Michael's going to say.

It's not like Castiel regrets the hickies, _god_ no, but there's not really any excuse to get him out of it when Michael sees. He can't use his sisters excuse of _"I burnt my neck using my hair straightener"_ , which both parents seemed to believe only because Anna was the kiss-up of the family. And he most certainly can't use Gabriel's excuse of _"I went hiking today, it's a rash from the trees"_ , which in fact never really worked on either their mother or father anyways.

So in fact, he's doomed.

"Just keep the scarf on all day, no one will see." Anna reassures him, but the way her lips are quivering makes Castiel assume otherwise.

"Won't people find it, strange, that I have this —," Castiel looks down and groans at the bedazzled scarf, " —thing on my neck?"

"They could just assume you pitch for the other team." Gabriel jokes, now crumpling up paper balls and tossing them into the trash can, resulting in a pile of paper balls around the room. Gabe looks up and winks at him.

Castiel rubs his temples, attempting to rid the headache he feels coming on. "How am I supposed to give a speech on tax funds when I look like I just let a six-year old give me a makeover?"

Anna sighs and Gabriel laughs again. Castiel knows that they can't do much to much to help anyways, but the _least_ they could just tell him that it _is_ _n't that bad._ But just the fact that they're not even doing that reassures Castiel that it actually _is_ in fact, _that bad._

Castiel shrugs. The only thing getting him through this day is what comes _after_ it. Dean's the only thing making his gears click into place right now, and goddammit, he's going to get through this day and see Dean even if it kills him.

"So who are they from, anyway?"

Castiel turns to his redheaded sister, hands strategically on her hips on top of her gray blazer. Her head is tilted to the side ever so slightly, just enough to make her intimidating.

Castiel shrugs. "Uh—"

"They're from an _Abercrombie_ Model." Gabe perks up, tossing another rolled up piece of paper toward the trash and missing.

" _He's_ not an _Abercrombie_ Model!" Castiel yells at him, and Gabe throws his hands up in front of his chest defensively.

Anna's mouth drops. "Wait, it's a guy?" She starts, and Castiel immediately bites on his tongue, "I thought you _promised_?"

Oh, yes. How could Castiel forget his promise to his Mother so many years ago? The one where he _promised_ to stop _sinning._ The one where he swore on his _life_ that he never would ever again touch another man _that way._ But, it was never really a _promise_ ; instead a lie.

"I wanted to get Mother off my ass." Castiel says, and Anna throws her arms up in the air.

"Oh my gosh!" She shakes her head, her wavy red hair swooping to the sides, "If _Michael_ find's out!" Anna wails, and she runs over to Castiel to tuck the scarf farther into his dress shirt.

Castiel tosses her hands off, causing her to drag the scarf out of his shirt. "Anna, please!"

She backs away, her eyes red and glassy. And Castiel knows that she remembers _everything_ that had happened that day; the day their Mother discovered that Castiel had slept with another man. The day that Michel _told._ It's not like Castiel isn't scared, because he _is,_ he's _terrified._ But he can't show fear to his little sister. Not again.

Anna's bottom lips begins to shake and Castiel's head bows down. "Michael will not become aware of this. I'll make it my priority." He says, clutching his sisters shoulders and pulling her into a tight hug. She's warm, and her arms wrap tightly around him.

"I don't want it to be like last time." She murmurs against Castiel's shoulders, and Castiel shuts his eyes.

Castiel pulls her back and brushes the hair away from her face, her big brown eyes so different from his, yet the same. "Me either, Anna."

"So, is this a family bonding-sesh, or what?" Gabriel remarks as he makes a disgusted choking noise in the back of his throat. Castiel looks down at Gabe, who now once again, has he feet propped up on top of Castiel's desk.

"Oh, c'mere you big teddy bear." Castiel jokes, and the face Gabriel makes is _priceless._

"Hell no!" Gabriel yells, standing up from the desk and backing against the wall, " _Cooties_."

"I can tie him down with the scarf while you hug him." Anna laughs, toying with the scarf in her hands. Gabe's eyes widen when Anna starts running towards him. Castiel laughs, reminding himself of when they were younger, with not a care in the world and not a tax-fund meeting to attend to. Castiel goes over to Anna, who now has Gabriel cornered in the back of the room against the book shelf.

Gabe rolls up into a little ball, and Castiel is laughing so hard he can feel his stomach burning. He doesn't even think much when someone knocks on the door.

"You can come in." Castiel chuckles, smoothing out his trench coat and letting Gabriel unravel out of the corner. He sticks his tongue out at Anna and Castiel before the door swings. Castiel turns to Gabe and swats his arm.

"Castiel are you ready for the — _oh my god!_ What are _those_!"

It takes Castiel a good two seconds before he loses all the breath in his lungs.

He doesn't have the scarf on.

And Michael is standing right in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how you guys like it, I always love reading your comments! 
> 
> Update will be soon :D


	9. Destination: The Moment Dean Realizes He's in Too Deep

_**I apologize for having to leave this morning. **My job can be a pain sometimes,**  but I didn't want to wake you.** _

_**I will be back later in the day if you would like to do anything.** _

_**I had fun last night, and I hope you did too.** _

_**Hopefully we can do it again.** _

_**Here's my number...just in case.** _

_**922-0817** _

Dean can't stop smiling like an idiot. His cheeks are beginning to burn a little even, but the smile on his face refuses to die down. He sucks in his bottom lip to keep from smiling, but it doesn't work.

He backs away from the counter, eyes trailing around the room for a long while, trying to process the previous events of last night.

_I had sex with him._

Dean laughs, "I had fucking  _sex_  with him." He says, hands finding messy hair and brushing through. It's extremely hard to believe, but Dean knows for a fact that it happened, "Holy  _fuck_!"

Dean feels like he's glowing. He feels like he's freakin'  _covered_ in  _glitter._

Castiel Milton has given him a reason to be happy _._ So  _fucking happy._ Dean feels like a weight from his chest has been lifted, and he feels  _lighter._ He feels less alone, which is odd, because Dean has felt alone his whole life mostly. If Dean had known from the moment that dorky little freak had  _accidentally_  bumped into him, that he would end up  _staying_ in his life, Dean would've thought himself crazy.

To say the beginning of he and Castiel's relationship had been rocky would be an understatement. Dean had wanted  _nothing_ to do with him in the slightest bit. No attraction, no desire, no hunger, no  _want._

But the more Dean had taken the time to look at him;  _really_ look at him, the more he had noticed how oddly  _perfect_ he was. Dean had seen that Castiel had the kind of facial hair that he usually only sees in photoshopped cover magazines for men's underwear. He had noticed that Castiel's eyes were like a poet's miscellaneous metaphor-collection. That his eyes could be compared to anything blue; but of course, nothing could  _truly compare_ to the actual color. And he had noticed the small little things he does, like when he tilts his head a little to the side when he's intently listening to something, or the way his stupid blue tie is always backwards, or the crazy, messy hair that still drives Dean wild.

But above it all, it was when Dean had noticed that Castiel was  _dauntless._ It was strange when Castiel hadn't backed away when Dean snapped at him; showed him the dangerous side. Which Dean thinks is why he actually  _became_  so desirable.

Castiel is just someone who fell into his life accidentally. And he left a mark.

A mark that Dean knows will never leave. There's just no way in hell Dean will forget him. Not because he had the ability to manipulate Dean's sexual preferences a little, but because he's this weird, dorky, little guy that  _changed him._ Castiel has shown him the good in people, even when Dean had believed that most people were rotten. Castiel makes him  _feel_ things;  _different_ things that he's never come across before.

Naked as he leans against the counter, Dean sucks in a breath.

_I have to tell Sam._

Dean slaps his hand on the granite. He  _can't_ tell Sam. Not when they're still in one of their stupid teen-drama sessions. Dean huffs when he realizes he's going to have to  _talk it out._ He loves his brother to death, but Dean will never understand why Sam spontaneously grows a vagina sometimes. Nevertheless, Sam's still his brother. Dean can apologize in person like a mature adult.

Dean swallows, annoyed when he finds that his throat's a little sore. Well, actually his whole  _body_ is sore. But it's a  _good_ kind of ache. A relieving pain.

So, as Dean leans shaken elbows on the counter, he decides it's a good time to call his brother.

Or, he  _hopes_ it's a good time.

He scurries over to the edge of the bed, searching in the pile of discarded clothes for his pants. He eventually finds them, yanking out his phone and flipping it open to dial Sam's number. It wasn't more of making up now as it was just needing to tell Sam he _fucked the shit out of Castiel._

The phone rings, a lot actually, and Dean knows Sam is probably sitting on the couch and staring at the screen and debating whether to answer or not. In the long run, Sam picks up.

"Sam!" Dean shouts instantly, unable to hold in excitement any longer. Sam's silent for a while.

_"Dean, this better be important. I'm trying on my suit."_

"Me and Cas we..." Dean chokes on his words a little, "...we had sex."

Sam's silent for a  _long_ time now. There's rustling movement on the other line. Sam sucks in a breath.

 _"Mr. Winchester, are you alright?"_ Dean hears an older man's voice say, and then he hears Sam clear his throat. Dean chuckles and wishes he could see his brother's reaction right now.

 _"Oh. Uh—wow, that's-that's—wow_. _"_ Sam scoffs. Dean rolls his eyes. He knows that tone of voice. That's his brother's tone of: ' _I'm giving you the cold-shoulder but also not trying to be a complete and total ass'_.

Dean pinches his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "What time does your uh, thingy end?"

 _"About half hour."_ Sam says plainly.

"Wanna' come by the hotel after? And uh—" Dean clenches his fist for what's about to come out of his mouth, "—and talk things out?"

Sam huffs a laugh.  _"Sure, Dean. I'll be over as soon as I can."_ He says sternly before he hangs up.

Dean holds the phone to his ear for a while even after the line goes dead. Sam doesn't hate his guts,  _thank God_ , but Dean's now stuck with the inevitable future of having to talk out his daddy-issues with his brother. He shrugs his shoulders, at least thankful that he'll be talking it out with someone who will kind of understand where he's coming from.

Although, Dean thinks that Sam will  _never_  have to deal with coming out to John, so he doesn't  _completely_ understand. But he understands enough, which is enough for Dean.

With a hand on the back of his damp neck, Dean makes his way out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, grinning at the pile of clothes at the end of the bed, the rustled sheets, the bottle of lube on the floor, and the teared open condom package on the side table. Dean nods his head in satisfaction. If anything, last night was even  _better_ than Dean had expected it to go. Castiel was just the right amount of gentle; not too soft but soft enough. Just the right amount of rough; not too aggressive, but aggressive enough to feel the  _pleasure,_ the  _lust,_ the  _desire,_ the  _want._

He was and  _is_  just the right amount of everything.

And oh  _god,_ Dean will do anything to feel it again. Dean gets a chill up his spine, remembering his kisses; the kind that girls can never get right. The tender and tantalizingly needy kisses, on his lips, his neck, his collarbone, his stomach, his—

Dean clears his throat and places a hand over his growing erection. It's awfully difficult to think of Castiel and  _not_ get a boner.

He starts the shower, letting the water run hot before he steps in. As cheesy as it sounds, it's a little difficult for Dean to step in at first, mainly because he doesn't want to wash away his  _kisses._ Dean shakes his head and denies himself the fact that he's actually kind of  _fangirling_ over last night. He still feels  _excitement_ in his core, or some other feeling that he  _thinks_ is excitement, but he actually doesn't know what feeling it is.

"You're just happy, man." Dean reassures himself. He steps into the steamy shower, hot water running over his face when he rubs his eyes under the downpour, "That's it. You're just really really happy. That's  _all_."

* * *

"Look, Sam, I'm sorry alright? I really am it's just—" Dean sucks in a breath, "— it's just I-uh, I—ugh. Okay, maybe you just need to grow the hell up and maybe I just need to—ugh, fuck this." Dean stops talking and shakes his head at his own reflection. "Dammit, dude, if you can't talk to a damn mirror how the hell do you expect to talk to Sam?"

Well,  _Dean_  doesn't expect to talk to Sam,  _Sam_ expects Dean to talk to him. Dean would rather just sit in silence with the guy until they could both just out-bore their problems and go back to the way they normally are. Feelings are bad, dangerous; Dean would rather just keep them in than let them out. It causes less emotional stress for everyone that way. His main job and focus: take care of Sammy, don't let him take care of you.

That was what his mother had told him to do, and  _god dammit_ , Dean had promised he would. And he's not going to break that promise. He's not going to break his mother's dying wish. Of course, Dean had almost been forced to do that anyways, after their father had just drank himself to death every nigh after the accident, leaving 8 year-old Dean to take care of his 4 year-old brother.

Dean had taken on the mother-figure pretty much. It was always, and still  _is,_ about taking care of Sammy. Sam may be older now, but he's still Dean's little brother. And Dean's not going to show the one person that looks up to him his  _weaknesses,_ his  _feelings._

Dean knows his feelings don't matter, he's been reassured that enough by his father. So what better way to turn that around other than to pretend he doesn't  _have_ feelings?

"Okay," Dean nods his head, "Just say you're sorry. He'll get over it."

Dean's head snaps away from the mirror when he hears the knocking at his door. Dean leans away from the sink, clapping and then rubbing his hands together. "Alright, showtime." He mutters.

Back to his own hotel room now, Dean walks hastily to the door, fingers lagging when he reaches the knob. He swings it open, and Sam just  _whips_ by him, almost knocking Dean over against the wall. Dean keels back, struck by his brothers sudden entrance.

"Dude, tell me everything."

Dean stands with the door still swung open, his head scuffed back into his neck and his eyebrows furrowed. "Huh?"

Sam makes a questionable gesture, swinging his hands out open palmed to the side. "Well, what are you waiting for? You wanna' tell me about Cas or no?"

_So much for apologizing?_

Dean parts his mouth to say something about how their last  _good_ bye wasn't so  _good,_ but he shuts his mouth instead. Dean grins, "Uh, he was uh,  _fucking awesome,_ dude." Dean laughs and shuts the door. And surprisingly, it's  _not_ awkward. Maybe Sam had already forgotten about it, thank  _God._ _  
_

"That's great, Dean." Sam nods, his smile fading suddenly. He sucks in a breath and scratches the back of his neck. "So, uh—"

_Shit. Maybe he didn't forget._

Dean feels his stomach twist, and now his mind is running different ways to apologize.

Sam looks at the ground, hair covering his eyes. "Lisa?"

_Oh shit._

"Oh, yeah.  _That._ " Dean sarcastically laughs and then clears his throat. He looks over to his brother, arms crossed firmly over his chest and eyebrows raised. "I don't know, Sammy. I guess I fucked it up. I mean I  _think_ I ended it?"

"You  _think_?" Sam says deeply. Although he's serious, Dean can tell he's happy. Sam's never liked Lisa. Well, he  _did._ But that was before the  _incident._

Dean shrugs. "Well what do you want me to say? That I came out of the closet and happily ended it with Lisa and then me and Cas frolicked off and confessed our undying love for one another?"

Oh, if it had only been so easy.

"Well, what did  _she_ say?" Sam asks.

_Don't tell him._

Dean swallows. Telling Sam that Lisa said she was coming up to California would put more on his plate than he has room for. But then again, lying never got him anywhere either.

"Tell me the truth, Dean." Sam speaks up again. Dean looks up at him, hazel eyes squinted and narrow. It's like Sam knows that he's contemplating telling the truth.

_Damn it, Sam._

"Cursed me out. Said she'd deal with me when I got back."

_FUCK._

Sam nods. Dean picks at his nails, watching his brothers face morph into a hesitant glare. Dean hates lying to him.  _God,_ he hates it. But this isn't what his brother's supposed to be dealing with on his marriage week. He's supposed to be  _happy._ And so far, Dean feels like  _he's_  made it all the opposite. He's already had to deal with Dean's stupid hormones and their father. He can't have this to worry about right now.

"Alright. I-I'm sorry, Dean." Sam's eyes trail down to the floor, and he takes a step closer to Dean. "Whatever happens between you and her, you know you always have a place to stay with me, alright? Ruby can suck it up for a while."

Dean grins at him. He may not always show it on the outside, but Dean's grateful when his brother's a big soft serve. "That is if I even make it out of New York  _alive._ "

Sam laughs, dimples burying deep into the sides of his cheeks. Dean has no idea what's going to happen with Lisa. Hell, he has no idea what's going to happen with Cas, but he't got his giant-ass, gigantor brother by his side, and that's all that matters.

Sam crosses his arms in front of his chest again. His smile fades, and now he's gritting the ends of his teeth together. "Dean?" He asks shyly, and Dean looks at him in question. "Look, dude, I'm sorry about the other day. With Dad and all. I was just—I was angry, and I had no right to snap at you like that—"

"Sam," Dean starts, holding his hand up, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I get it, alright? I'm not the talk-it-out and hug-it-out type, and I know that. But my problems are  _mine._ Not yours.  _Mine._ " Dean says, surprised at how easily what he had just said flew out of his mouth. It w _as_ his apology, clean cut and serious. And he needs Sam to know that he doesn't want him interfering with any of his own problems, in fear of making his problems  _Sam's_  problems.

Sam parts his lips, and Dean can sense he wants to argue back, to tell him that he  _wants_ to help, but instead he shuts his mouth closed.

_Atta' boy, Sammy._

"Alright, Dean." Sam says, "But you know I'm—"

"Ah!" Dean interrupts, holding a pointed finger in front of him, and Sam shuts up and rolls his eyes. Sam's as stubborn as mule, which makes Dean laugh because he's the exact same goddamn way. An argument between them is like a pendulum going back and forth.

Sam  _tsks_ and holds open palms out in front of his chest, "Okay, okay, okay, jeez!" He laughs, eyes peering down to check his watch. "Shit, I was supposed to grab a beer with Garth at nine. It's almost ten to. Gotta run, Dean. You know what time the wedding starts tomorrow, right?" Sam says, hastily making his way to the door as he talks.

"Uhhh—yeah totally." Dean nods, but then Sam looks at him with his stupid bitch-face. "Alright, no."

Sam grabs the door and swings it open, "Five is the reception, okay?" He nods swiftly, backing out of the room, "See ya' Dea—" Sam slams the door before Dean has a chance to hear the rest of what he was saying.

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okie-dokie then." He sucks in a breath, sitting on the edge of the bed and running fingers over his damp forehead. Okay, so Sam isn't mad anymore. Dean can check that off his list. The apology wasn't too bad, thank  _God._ Dean's always been grateful for how quickly the two of them could manage to play it cool with each other, even if there were grudges being held.

All he has to do is get through the wedding. Then he just has Friday to relax. Thanks to that one faithful day in the broken elevator, Dean has one free complimentary day at the hotel. The whole day, he can just  _relax_.

With  _Cas._

"Shit." Dean mutters to himself, fingers rubbing tired eyes. He only has basically  _one_ more day with him.  _One._ _  
_

Dean suddenly gets the feeling like he just got punched in the gut.  _One_ fucking day. That's  _it._ And then he's  _gone._

Dean shakes his head. Just like all good things in his life, it has to be cut short. And maybe it's for the better, he thinks, because he knows he probably would've just fucked it up anyways. Just like he always does with every God forsaken thing that he cares about. And he knows he doesn't deserve him. Castiel is too good for him, and Dean knows that. There's no question about it. _  
_

So maybe it's for the better.

He will just go home on Saturday, deal with Lisa's wrath, whether it be here or in New York. He'll continue on with his life, like it has been for the past 30 years. And there's nothing he can do about it.

But Dean wants to do something about it. He wants to do something  _so bad._ He wants _this_ ; this being, whatever he has with Cas. As long as Dean can see him, he'll take whatever he can get. Friends, friends with benefits, even arch-enemies for Christ sake. Whatever it is, he just wants to stay with him.

And he can't. And it's  _killing him._

But Dean can live in the moment, for just a few more times. So with that, he reaches for the phone in his pocket, and dials the number that he most recently programmed into his phone.

It rings in his ear a few times. And then he hears an  _echo._ A sharper ring, a  _muffled_ one. Dean takes the phone away from his ear and listens, and then realizes there's a phone ringing.

Right outside his door.

_Cas?_

Dean keeps the phone in his hand and listens to the hum on the other line, also listening intently to the blaring noise outside his door. He slowly opens the door, heart beating the whole time.

Castiel stands there, and when his eyes meet Dean's, he presses the 'decline' button on the touch screen of his phone. Dean swallows. Castiel looks  _angry._ Dean can't imagine why, but he hopes  _he's_ not the reason.

Castiel's eyes are squinted and glassed, red veins peeking out from the edges. Brows furrows and deep, nose scrunched ever so slightly, almost as if he's about to  _growl._ His jaw is sternly and clearly flexed, and he looks like he's sucking in a breath by the way his collar bones push sharply out of his skin.

And oh  _God._

Dean makes a choked sound in the back of his throat when he sees the purple marks on his neck.

Dean parts his lips and hovers for a few seconds. "Uh, Cas?"

Castiel grabs the collar of Dean's light blue henley-shirt, shoving him hard back into the room and pressing him tight against the yellow hotel wall, kicking the door closed behind him. And then he just  _kisses_ him. Castiel kisses the  _fucking shit_ out of him.

It's so quick and needy, making Dean drop the phone out of his hand. Castiel presses into him more, teeth biting  _hard_ against Dean's bottom lip, enough that Dean thinks he might've actually drawn blood. Still having Dean pressed against the wall, Castiel removes his trench-coat and suit jacket, spiking them to the ground without ever having to remove his lips from Dean's. Cas is stronger than Dean had ever assumed, arms and calloused fingers clamped and pressing him tightly to the wall.

Next comes Castiel's white dress shirt — which he's actually  _tearing_ off, buttons flying away in the midst of the action. After a portion of Castiel's chest is exposed, the shirt is still on but he's riding his hands under and across Dean's abdomen, fingers exploring and  _scraping_ across tender skin. It's rough and  _hot as fuck_ , but something's wrong. Something is  _so_ very wrong with him, and Dean knows it.

Dean hands finds Castiel's forearms, gripping them tightly and pressing him back until Castiel is  _forced_  off.

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asks, panting and out of breath. Castiel's eyelashes twitch before he furrows his brow and tries to come out of Dean's grip. Dean holds him tighter.

"Nothing, Dean." Castiel hisses, "I want you." He says, his eyes softening a little, blue irises being overtaken by dilated pupils. Castiel's tongue swipes across his bottom lip, "I just want you so bad."

Dean nods, "I-I want you too." He murmurs, hands releasing Castiel's arms, allowing him to melt back against him. It's a little more passionate this time, the way Castiel is slower when he stands to meet Dean's lips again, tongue sliding against his lips and forcing Dean's mouth to open.

Dean knows Castiel is lying. He can see right through his eyes; beautiful, but  _hiding._ Castiel digs his thigh up against Dean's cock, and Dean can't help but lose focus for a second. Dean knows he'll never get tired of kissing Castiel, will never get tired of the way he tastes, of the way he smells. It's  _intoxicating._ _  
_

Dean's hands find Castiel's hips, rutting his body closer until he can feel Castiel's hardness pressing into his own. Dean finds Castiel's ass, grabbing it with his hands and rutting him up against his hips, his body desperate for friction.

Castiel's fingers are digging hard into Dean's shoulders, scraping and tearing at anything his fingers find. Castiel's tongue twists around Dean's, urgently, until he bites down onto Dean's bottom lip and then sucks it into his mouth. Dean's so happy he can finally kiss him, can finally breathe him in and taste him, but Dean can't seem to shake the feeling away that Castiel is not as okay as he says he is.

His kisses are fervent, and  _nothing_ like they were last night. He's going too  _fast._

"Dean," Castiel whimpers against Dean's mouth gently. His fingers act different then his mouth, quicker and more urgent, going to Dean's jeans and unbuttoning them hastily, "Fuck me,  _please_. Just fuck me."

Dean stares down at him in the dimly lit light of the room, highlighted shadows making all the colors of blue in his eyes fade into one. Dean watches his eyes and face almost sink into hidden emotion. Castiel charges forward again, eyes planted on Dean's lips. Dean stops him, hands pressed softly but firmly against his chest. Yeah, something definitely isn't right.

"Castiel," Dean says, moving his hands to the outer parts of his arms and squeezing them gently, "What happened?"

Castiel swallows, fingers lightly pressed onto Dean's chest. And Dean can see it; the uneasiness in his eyes, the way his eyelids creep ever so slightly over the blue. His eyes fall away from Dean's allowing himself to look anywhere but at Dean's face. Castiel's lips part suddenly, hesitating and twitching before he licks his lips and takes a breath.

"My brother," Castiel starts, swallowing down a gulp again. Dean holds his shoulders tighter, " He saw my—" Cas stops talking and gestures to the mark on his neck. Dean feels his throat tighten.

"Okay," Dean nods, urging him to go on. He actually really doesn't wan't Castiel to continue, but for some reason he can't stop. He feels the compelling need to help him, do whatever it takes to make it better.

Castiel's breath hitches. "I'm afraid he's going to inform my mother."

Dean's thumbs circle shapes on Castiel's arms. He grins, "Well I mean if your mom's gonna' go ape shit on your ass about it, then—"

"No," Castiel cuts him off harshly, fingers coiling into Dean's shirt, "You don't understand. We're a very religious family. She won't allow me to be with men. Naomi she-she's  _strict_."

_Strict._

Dean knows strict. He grew up with John for Christ sake. He knows what it's like to feel like you don't have a say, he knows what it feels like to feel powerless. He knows  _exactly_ what it's like to feel  _worthless._ But for some reason, he can't shake the feeling that this type of  _strict_ is different.

"What kind of strict?" Dean asks, and Castiel looks down at the ground and goes into space, a frozen emotion stuck onto his face. Castiel doesn't answer, instead keeps looking at the ground. Dean shakes his arms a little, "Cas, what kind of strict?" He asks again.

" _Painfully_  strict."

Dean's chest goes hollow.  _Painfully strict._  At first, Dean had thought that Cas was just trying to emphasize his point. But then he gets it. He  _really_ gets it, and never before in his life has Dean ever felt this compassionate, so awful and sympathetic. _  
_

"She..." Dean swallows and tries to speak but it's almost impossible by the look on Castiel's face. "She—"

_Beat you._

Dean can't even push the words out of him. John has cursed, he's spit, he's thrown and yelled, but  _never,_ _never once,_ has John struck him. And suddenly it's as if Dean  _doesn't_ know strict at all. He feels Castiel's arms begin to tremble a little, and all Dean wants to do is  _touch_ him; to rub his thumb against his cheek and to run his hand up the curve of his back, to hook his hand around the back of his neck and pull him in tight. But his fingers are stuck, glued and frozen against Castiel's arms.

"She assumed that I would be disciplined. Brainwashed. That maybe I would stop liking men." Castiel shrugs, head shaking ever so slightly, "But, I can't seem to."

Dean parts his mouth, "Who you're attracted to isn't your fault. You're allowed to love whoever the hell you want to love." He says sternly. Castiel's eyes find his again,  _finally_ , glassy and red. And Castiel just lets out the smallest of smiles, barely a curve in his lips. His eyes light up, contorting into somewhat of a comforted demeanor.

"He didn't know it was with me, though, right? He doesn't know it's from a guy? He just saw the mark?" Dean asks cautiously.

Castiel becomes nervous again. "At first yes. I wasn't going to say anything. Well, actually I  _couldn't_  say anything. It was—" Castiel shakes his head and shuts his eyes, "—my sister, Anna. It was an accident. She hadn't meant to but—"

Dean shushes him, "It's alright, Cas. Anyone comes after you, I'm not gonna' let 'em touch you. I won't let it happen."

And then Castiel smiles again. The same goddamn smile that he had done the first time Dean had ever seen him smile. Ever so slightly, small but meaningful, smallest dimples burying in the stubble coated cheeks. And Dean isn't going to let him go. He can't let him go on Saturday. It's just not something that Dean's ready for; to lose him. Dean wanted to keep him at arms length, to avoid getting hurt again. But Dean's going to take the chance anyways.  _God dammit_ , he's going to take the chance.

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel whispers so quietly it's barely audible, but Dean watches his lips move and understands what he's saying.

Dean's fingers finally decide to uncurl from Castiel's arms, moving from the muscled skin to the back of his neck. With one hand on the back of Castiel's head, and one at the nape of his neck, Dean pulls him in tight, letting Castiel bury his face into the crook of Dean's neck. And it's really strange, the way they're holding each other. As if the person would vanish if the other doesn't hold on tight enough.

Dean buries his nose into Castiel's hair; mint and honey, just like he remembers on the plane when Castiel had his shoulder crooked into Dean's neck just like he has now. But it's so much different than last time. He's warm, hands hooked around Dean's back and pulling him so close there's not an inch of space between them. Dean knows that after this they wont be able to return to their casual interactions. Or,  _he_ wont.

This was a whole new level of something — or at least, it is to Dean. If his father had  _ever_ done anything like that to him, he'd keep it so far buried down it would be coming out of his ass. He wouldn't tell a damn soul if his life depended on it. But for Castiel to trust him with it, for Castiel to trust Dean to  _protect_ him. It's all so  _special_ to Dean.

Dean doesn't want him to be alone. He needs to be there to  _protect_ him, even if he doesn't need to be protected. It's who Dean is.

"Cas," Dean says, his voice muffled, "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

Castiel retreats his head back, "Yes, I have a meeting at two."

Dean brushes the back of his head, massaging fingers into the back of his neck. He smirks, "Two, huh? Yeah, you can make it."

"Make it to what?"

Dean smiles wider. "Sam's wedding. You're coming."

Castiel unhooks his arm from Dean's back and placed them flat on Dean's chest. He shakes his head but grins. "No, Dean. I-I couldn't impose. I'm not—"

"Ah, ah, ah." Dean slides out from Castiel's grasp and shakes his head, waving a pointed finger at him. Castiel's eyes follow him to the bed as Dean pulls his shirt over his head, pants and boxer briefs sliding off easily too. Castiel's eyes widen and Dean shrugs, "I need a date anyway." He says, pulling back the cream colored covers and shimmying over to the other side of the bed. He pats the mattress and looks at Cas.

Dean winks. "So you wanna' come cuddle, or what?"

Castiel stands there, hair a disheveled mess, shirt unbuttoned and tie askew. He squints his eyes and smirks, pulling off the tie and tossing it on the ground. Dean can't help but stare at him when his shirt comes next. And even Cas is messing around a little bit, slowly sliding the fabric across his body like a professional stripper.

Dean starts humming the tune of "Pour Some Sugar On Me".  _  
_

Castiel smiles widely when his pants and underwear comes off, and he crawls under the covers next to Dean, letting his head rest back into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean wraps the sheet around them both, warmth enclosing them as Castiel presses against Dean's side. It's relaxing; the hot breath on Dean's neck, sometimes even a tender kiss followed by a soft sigh.

Dean turns his head toward him, allowing his lips to skim against Castiel's forehead. They lay like that until Dean's sure Castiel is asleep. And when he hears the muffled snore, Dean laughs and finally shuts his eyes.

"Yeah, there's no way I'm letting you go." Dean whispers against his forehead, fingers rubbing shapes into frail and tender skin. Dean had never thought he'd see Castiel like this. It's like he's seeing him different, in such a way that even the slightest glance of his eyes will make Dean's heart skip. He knows it's bad to get this close,  _Christ,_ he know's it's bad to get close  _at all._ But Castiel  _does_ things to him, and Dean can't  _help_ it.

But now that he's finally here, he doesn't want it to end.

He doesn't want to shut his eyes, because the sooner he falls asleep, the sooner this moment will end. So Dean lies awake awhile, listening to Castiel's soft breaths, watching his eyelashes and fingers twitch, watching him dream.

He thinks about the wedding, of how wonderful it'll be to watch his brother get married. Yeah yeah, as much as him and Ruby bitch, Sam must love her for a reason. He thinks about seeing Bobby, seeing Karen. Watching Karen roll her eyes at one of Bobby's cheap jokes. And he's starting to fall asleep, thinking of how wonderful it will be.

How absolutely fucking  _wonderful_  it'll be to show up with the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty around his arm. To finally be able to call him his  _date._ To show up with Castiel Milton in public, not having to hide his feelings

But then his eyes snap open.

Because John will be there.

And  _he_  won't like seeing the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty around his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reviews from last chapter were actually amazing, you guys are awesome :)
> 
> Let me know how you guys like it!  
> Next chapter up soon.


	10. Destination: Sam Winchester's Wedding

**_< 3:35 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:_ **

**_where are u? U need to be here...it's ur job. My best man's not gonna bail on me is he? >_ **

**_< 3:37 PM: outgoing text message to: Sam:_ **

**_Bobby would have my ass if I bailed. Princess is getting ready–Be there asap >_ **

**_< 3:38 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:_ **

**_u invited Cas? ...Have u told him? >_ **

**_< 3:42 PM: outgoing text message to: Sam:_ **

**_About? >_ **

**_< 3:44: incoming text message from: Sam:_ **

**_Dad. >_ **

"I'm ready."

Dean's head swipes to the bathroom door. His eyes go wide, trailing down Castiel's body, decked out in his almost usual attire; everything _but_ the trench coat, and his dress jacket is buttoned. Hair combed neatly now instead of messy, which almost makes Dean a little sad, but he had to do the same with his anyways. The stubble on his cheeks is gone and shaved, exposing a sharp cut jawline. Castiel smiles when he notices Dean is checking him out.

Red hair swoops out from behind him, "He should be all set." A high toned voice says.

"Thanks, Anna." Castiel turns to smile at her, and then places fingers gently on his neck. She swats his hand away.

"Don't touch!" Anna yelps, "You'll smudge the makeup."

Castiel rolls his eyes and shrugs. But Dean has to admit, Anna did a _fine ass_ job. You'd have to be an inch away from Castiel's face to even see a slight discoloration in Castiel's neck. From where Dean's standing, he doesn't even see anything but skin. Makeup really _does_ do wonders. Luckily for Dean, most of his marks are covered by clothes, with only maybe one or two faintly outlined spots that you'd have to be staring directly at to really notice.

Anna had even touched up the edges of Dean's eye from the bar fight. Of course, now the skin is just more of a faint yellow-ish green instead of a purple, but a little coverage never hurt. Thankfully the little cut above Dean's eyebrow blends into the hair, making it almost impossible to notice.

Castiel walks over to him and adjusts Dean's tie, tightening the knot at the top. Dean watches his long, tender fingers brush against his neck a little. His eyes gaze to his lips, crooked to the side and lower lip sucked in, nose scrunched in the slightest bit as his eyes focus to adjust Dean's tie properly.

Needless to say, Castiel looks just as stunning as he usually does. Blue eyes look up to meet his, "Ready?"

_Not really._

Dean nods anyways. Castiel gives Dean's chest a little pat, moving then to his sister and giving her a warm hug. She wraps her arms around him, "Bring me home some cake." She jokes. Castiel smiles warmly at her.

"Thanks Anna, for uh—" Dean motions to Castiel's neck and his face.

Anna grins. "Of course, Dean. It was nice meeting you." She smiles, but Dean can still see _worry_ in her eyes. Dean tenses a little.

Castiel nods and smiles at her one more time, and then he's leading Dean out the door. They start down the hallway, Castiel leading frantic and quick. The little smile on his face seems to stay put. He's excited, Dean can tell.

Dean wonders if now is a good time to tell him.

His phone vibrates again.

**_3:59 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:_ **

**_?_ **

Dean sucks in a breath,"Hey, Cas—" ** _  
_**

"Dean," Castiel turns around and smiles at him, "I'm really happy you invited me to this. I've been interested in formally meeting your brother. And I love cake."

_Shit._

Dean feels his throat tighten a little. He tries to open his mouth, but his lips won't seem to tear apart. He rolls the corner of his lips up instead and exchanges Castiel a small smile.

It's not like Dean regrets inviting him. _God_ no. He wants Castiel to get his mind to ease, to let him forget about Michael, about his Mom. Dean wants Cas to have a good time, with _him._ And Dean wants to have a good time with _Cas._ God dammit he's going to have a good fucking time with Castiel even if it kills him. He's using his time like these last two days with Castiel are his last two days _alive._

So yeah, Dean doesn't regret inviting him in the slightest bit. He just regrets his _father._

Okay, all Dean has to do is keep away from John. That's it; simple and easy. Just _stay away._ Besides, John can't be _that_ stupid to start a scene in the middle of his son's wedding. John will most likely just avoid Dean like he has been for the past few years anyway.

And anyways, as long as Castiel is by Dean's side the whole time, nothing's going to happen to him. And Dean wont let anything happen to him either way.

_What are you worrying about, dude? Chill out._

Somehow Dean had managed to leave the hotel without knowledge of ever stepping out, and now he's being led into the hotel parking lot. Dean can see the shiny, sleek exterior of the back of the car sticking out of one of the spaces. At least they'll make an appearance with the car.

"You wanna' drive?"

Dean's head whips to Cas, " _What_?"

Castiel holds the keys up to Dean, "Here." He grins, "You know the address anyways."

"Dude, _hell yes_!" Dean yells, snatching the keys from Castiel's hand. Dean eagerly slips into the drivers side, Castiel soon follows into the passengers seat with a grin on his face.

"Okay, so you know how to drive st—"

Dean shift the gears into reverse and steps on the pedal, sending the two of them flying forward, "Oh my god, this is friggin' _awesome._ " Dean says. It reminds him of his childhood in a weird sense, when he still had his mustang. It gives him a sense of comfort, a sense of home-like feeling.

Once Dean pulls out of the lot and begins to drive, Castiel clears his throat, "So how long is the drive?"

"'Bout ten minutes." Dean smirks, hands tightly gripped around the wheel. He glances at Castiel for a second, and he seems _blank_ ; staring straight out into the window, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes wandering aimlessly.

"Well don't look too excited," Dean jokes, smiling a little at Cas. Cas doesn't look back and Dean's eyes flick from the road to his eyes, "Somethin' on your mind?" He says, reverting his attention back to the window.

"No," Castiel breathes.

_Lie._

"So who will I have the pleasure of meeting while I'm there?" Castiel continues. He takes a deep breath, hand smoothing across his face. Dean deepens his stare on the road. Castiel would be #1 in the class of bad acting. Dean wants to ask about it more, but it's not his place to snoop.

"My uncle, Bobby," Dean huffs a laugh, "Don't let him intimidate you. Iron on the outside and fluff on the inside. His wife Karen keeps him in line. My cousins— Claire and Charlie, they'll be there too." 

Castiel ponders, "Are you close with them?"

"Yeah," Dean nods, "Family's important to us. It's the only real thing we got."

Castiel gapes out the window for a second and grins to himself. "My cousin, Meg, her and Gabriel were close. She took after his-his so called  _sassy-ways_. We always used to call her little demon. She unfortunately learned a lot from Gabriel. He was always, uh, I don't know—the _trickster_ of the family, you might say."

"Now that sounded like it definitely has a story behind it."

Castiel pauses for a second and shakes his head at his feet. Dean looks over to see him grinning to himself, "One time, a really long time ago, when I was still in junior high—" Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs, "—Gabriel had woken me up, screaming at me that I was late for school. Of course, the student that I was, would rather be skinned alive than be tardy. Got up, got dressed, ran to school. Turns out it was 6 A.M. on a _Saturday_. And by the time I got back, Gabe had locked me out of the house. Waking my family up at 6 A.M. by ringing the doorbell was not fun for anyone _but_ Gabriel."

Dean lets out a harmonious laugh, "Oh I would've paid to see that."

"It wasn't funny, Dean." Castiel defends, "It was the middle of November. My nose was growing icicles."

Dean can't help but laugh again, glancing at Castiel with gentle mockery, "Sound's like Gabriel's a _little demon_ too, huh?" He grins to Castiel, who's already staring at him with a look that Dean knows is one where annyoance is being forced, but Castiel can't help the small smile that spreads across his face.

"Little demon," Castiel repeats, "What does that make _me_ , then?"

"A dorky angel," Dean responds quickly, hand finding Castiel's knee and gripping it, rubbing his thumb against clothed skin.

_My dorky angel._

Castiel's hand slides over Dean's, a sweaty palm wrapping around boney knuckles. And then Castiel threads fingers in between Dean's, his palm pressed tight against the back of Dean's hand.

Dean's always had a problem with holding hands. Always thought it was _un-manly_. But no matter how hard he tells himself to pull his hand away, his body refuses to listen. And it just feels _safer._ Dean knows that _he_ feels safer when Castiel is with him, _touching_ him, because that's how he knows _Castiel_ is safe.

So that's how Dean's hand stays for the remainder of the car ride.

But all Dean can think about the rest of the way is _John._ What he's going to _do_ when he sees Castiel. What he's going to _say._ Hell, John can say whatever the fuck he wants to Dean, but if he _dares_ to point one of his fingers at Castiel—Dean's going to _lose it._

They finally pull into the long stretch of road, cars lined up on the side and small white tent in the distance. Dean pulls the keys out of the ignition and stares in front of him for a moment.

Castiel is the first to pull his hand away.

But Dean stops him.

"Cas, I need to tell you something." Dean blurts out uncontrollably. It's been in the back of his mind most of the ride, and something had just kicked it to the front without his consent. His throat goes dry.

Castiel loosens the tie on his neck a little, tilting his head up, he looks seriously at Dean. "Y-Yes. Of course, Dean."

Cas has the right to know. He _deserves_ to know. Their hands only come apart when Dean unbuckles his seat belt and adjusts his body towards Cas. He can tell by the look on Castiel's face that he most likely thinks he's in trouble.

Dean finds Castiel's hand again, this time placing _his_ hand on top. "You're not in trouble," Dean smiles slightly, and he sees Castiel's chest deflate as if he had been holding his breath.

"I can sense it's not good news, though."

Dean bites down on his bottom lip and sucks in a breath. He doesn't want to tell him. He doesn't want him to worry. But he has to _warn_ him.

"My-my dad, um, John, he's going to be there." Dean starts, and Castiel's eyebrows raise and urge him to go on. "I just—I need you to stay with me at all times, okay? My dad's not one to mess with, alright? Just stay with me."

Castiel's face changes from nervous to _blank_. He nods, eyes flicking back and forth between Dean's. Dean can sense he wants to ask _why_ , but he knows that Castiel is smarter than that, which is another reason why Dean can't seem to want to leave.

Dean finally gets the willpower to let go of Castiel's hand and get out of the car, standing and brushing down his suit jacket and pants. Cool air blows across his face and it almost feels like he was sticking his head out of a moving car.

Castiel walks over to him and adjusts Dean's red tie. He's calm. He's content. And it makes Dean feel _that_ much better.

The gravel dirt road towards the big white tent seems to stretch forever. The wedding starts in forty-five minutes, which Dean concludes gives them enough time to maybe meander about for a while and introduce Castiel to family. Then all they have to do is sit through the ceremony at five, and then maybe have a piece of cake and go back to the hotel afterwards.

Castiel nudges Dean's arm. "Worry is an ugly face on you."

Dean glances to Castiel who's smirking knowingly in front of him. "I'm not worried."

"Dean, stop worrying for _yourself_. Wedding's are supposed to be fun."

_I'm not worrying for me, I'm worrying for you._

Dean just doesn't want to see the look on his face, he doesn't want Castiel to feel the same way he did when John lashed out on him. He doesn't want Castiel to feel _embarrassed_ for who he is. He doesn't want Castiel to hear that being gay is _wrong_ from someone else; in fear that it may remind him of his Mother.

_Inviting him to this was the worst idea you've ever had, Winchester._

It's silent between them as they both walk towards the tent, the sound of laughter and chatter getting louder. Dean groans in the back of his throat.

"I hate talking to people." Dean murmurs under his breath. Castiel laughs shortly after.

"Just smile and pretend you're listening." Castiel responds quickly.

Dean cringes when he's able to start making out recognizable faces. He exhales sharply, "Is that what you do?"

"Only when I'm talking to you." Castiel hums back to him, flicking his eyebrows up. Dean rolls his eyes.

The front of the tent is guarded by a short-ish and chubby man, only little shorter than Dean, and he's scribbling over a clipboard with sun glasses on his face. Lose the suit and glasses and he'd be right up creepy-biker-guy alley. God knows why he has the sunglasses on considering it's 4:15 P.M. at the end of September and the sun isn't even pointed towards him.

Dean leans over next to Castiel's ear, "I didn't know the secret service would be here." He chirps, and Castiel nudges his shoulder and smiles brightly at the man in front of them.

"Name." The guard states clearly, head tilting up to Cas, lips pursed. Neither of them can see his eyes, but they somehow beat down on the two of them harshly.

Castiel hesitates to answer. "Oh I'm not—"

"Dean Winchester." Dean interrupts, "You know, _The_ Dean Winchester. Model, brother, _Best Man_."

The guy's facial expression doesn't change. If any, it goes more serious. "Oh, you mean _The_ Dean Winchester that was supposed to show up two hours ago?"

Castiel chuckles in the back of his throat.

Dean grinds his teeth and takes a step closer to the man. He holds a pointed finger up towards his face, "You know, just because you have sunglasses doesn't mean you—"

"Dean! Cas!" A voice interrupts them. Dean's head snaps to the inside of the tent, and Sam's rushing towards them. Sam grins and places a hand on the guards shoulder, "It's alright, Cliff. Let 'em in."

The guard, which now has a name, nods his head and glances back and forth between Dean and Castiel again, "Let me know if there's any problems with these two," He starts, pinching his glasses and bringing them to the end of his nose, "Especially pretty-boy over here." Cliff nods his head at Dean.

"Yeah—leaving now." Dean sarcastically smiles at him and drags Castiel's arm inside the tent. Sam cuts in between them, hands falling on opposite ends of their shoulders. He's dressed up, black suit with a red tie, just like Dean.

"Glad you guys are finally here. Was starting to worry you two wouldn't make it out of the car," Sam jokes, a sly wink towards Dean. Dean rolls his eyes again. He's been here five minutes and he's already been mocked more than once. Dean doesn't even dare to look over and see how red Castiel's face is. _  
_

Sam walks them through the tent, arms still wrapped around their shoulders. Dean takes a moment to wander his eyes around. The tent stretches far on each side, tables draped in white tablecloths lined up in neat rows, each with a white and red rose bouquet in the middle. The tables circle around a clear, neatly trimmed patch of grass in the form of a stage-like area, and in front of that is the long head table.

Dean's eyes gloom across a sea of familiar faces, but he has yet to see John. Sam keeps leading them to a small opening in back of the tent next to the head table, outside again and to where Dean can finally see the sun begin to set over the horizon of long grass field. Each white chair is lined perfectly in rows, surrounding the long white stretch of sheet in the middle aisle. And there's even _Goddamn rose petals_ scattered across the aisle way. The wedding canopy is white too, red flowers vined into the braided sides.

"Oh boy, Sammy, she's got you whipped." Dean pats his brother on the back. Sam huffs at him.

"I think it's lovely, Sam." Castiel corrects, eyes glued to the way the sun stretches across the canopy, giving it an orange glow.

Sam glances with a bitch-face at Dean. "Cas likes it." He states.

"Sam?" A voice comes from behind them, and they all turn around to see a blonde woman's head peeking through the tent entrance, "There's been a problem."

Sam clears his throat, his happy and pleasant demeanor fading into seriousness. "Shit." He mutters under his breath, "'Scuse me, guys."

Dean lets him pass _._ He watches Sam leave hesitantly, "Probably got the wrong flavor of cake," Dean jokes to Cas. Cas doesn't respond. Dean turns to face Castiel now, his eyes still unable to glance away from the scene in front of him. He's looking at the canopy like it's an unspoken memory.

Dean flicks his eyes from Cas to the canopy, "Cas, you okay?"

"Do you ever wonder what it's like to be under there?" Castiel answers quickly, finally drawing his attention to Dean. The sun accents against his eyes, bringing out the darker blue ring circled around the lighter iris. They're almost a little cold, even though the sun beams down on them.

Dean faces the canopy, the roses decorated on the sides. He doesn't have an answer. Mainly because up until then, he _hadn't_ ever thought about it.

"I imagine it being terrifying." Castiel says again, "Making a promise like that. A promise to stay."

_A promise to stay._

Dean doesn't really quite know what Castiel means by that. Castiel looks back to the canopy and pouts his lips a little.

He's keeping something in. Dean knows it now; that there's something Castiel isn't telling him. He's seen it from the moment Castiel had run away in the elevator that one night. Castiel's mixed emotions are confusing, yes, but it's like Dean can almost read them.

"Dean?"

Dean's gaze snaps from Castiel and he turns around, now facing his brother peeking out from the entrance to the tent. Sam motions for him to come.

"Cas, I'll be right back." Dean says, but Castiel doesn't look to him as he's leaving, or even respond.

Dean hastily runs to his brother, "What's the sitch?"

Sam scratches the back of his head, "It's Adam, he can't make it."

"What?" Dean spits, "Great, what pit did he fall into now?"

" _Says_ he's in traffic," Sam gestures quotations with his hands, "We're one groomsmen short now, so—" Sam cuts himself off and his lips form into a mischievous smile.

_Cas._

"You want Cas to be the backup?" Dean raises his eyebrows in question.

"Well not _just_ that..." Sam trails off. His eyebrows pyramid at the top, and Dean knows he's about to hear one of his God forsaken crazy ideas, "...I was thinking you could walk _him_ down the isle, instead of Charlie."

Yep, there it is.

" _What_?!" Dean's eyes widen so much he actually thinks his eyes might pop out of his head. Sam shrugs with a laugh.

Sam smirks at him, "Charlie wanted to walk Gilda anyways! It turns out perfect since Adam was supposed to walk Gilda down!"

"Sam..." Dean shakes his head. He feels _strange_ doing that. It feels _nerve racking._ In all truth, he's more than happy to walk Castiel down, but he's just _nervous_ for it...and he doesn't know why.

"Dean, please." Sam shakes both Dean's shoulders, "You know you want to, man."

"Fine." Dean groans, clearing his throat, "But he doesn't even have a red tie."

* * *

"I can't believe Kevin had an extra red tie. Who the hell brings two ties?"

Castiel glances at him and smiles, wrapping his arm tighter around Dean's. Dean faces the aisle from the tent, looking over the heads of all the people sitting, _waiting,_ for them to come out.

He can't believe he's doing this. He can't believe he's walking Castiel fucking Milton down the Goddamn isle. He can't _fucking_ believe he's not up there already with Sam like he _fucking should be._ In a traditional wedding, Dean would already be up there, and he wouldn't have to stand where he is with his heart beating so hard against his ribs he thinks Castiel may hear it. But no, Sam had to insist on having _all_ the bridesmaids and groomsmen enter.

So as Dean sits there, eyes shut, Castiel's arm hooked with his, he waits.

Someone hooks their arms around his waist.

"Dean!"

Dean's head turns, and he instantly grins at the smiling redhead, "Hey, Charlie, how you been, sweetheart?" He pulls her into a side hug with his free arm. She looks gorgeous, as usual, pixie cut gelled perfectly into place, red silk dress bringing out the amber in her eyes.

"Forget me," Charlie shakes her head, "Please _do_ tell me about this man that is clutching so tightly around your arm." She giggles. Dean sucks in a breath and looks to Cas, who's looking up at him in question.

"This is Cas," Dean starts, hesitating, "He's uh, he's my-my uh—"

_HE'S WHAT, DEAN? WHAT IS HE?_

"I'm his date," Castiel picks up on Dean's stutter and sticks his free hand out to shake Charlie's.

_Why didn't you say that? Idiot._

Well, maybe he didn't say it because he thinks that Cas is more than a date. Which doesn't make his heart beat any slower at all.

Charlie smiles by rolling her lips in, "Ah." She grins at Dean and then exchanges a wide smile for Cas. It's like Dean and Charlie can read each others minds.

Charlie winks at him. _Date, huh?_

Dean glares back. _Shut up._

Charlie retreats her hand back suddenly when the sound of music begins to play, and she gasps. "Gilda, get over here!"

A girl with blonde hair comes up to him and begins to push him out of the tent. That's when Dean feels like he's going to throw up. He doesn't know why the _hell_ he's so nervous. But then he's struck with the idea that it's all too _real._ Being here with Cas, being next to him, holding onto him, walking him down the isle, Castiel all dressed up and stunning, here with _Dean._

And he feels the pressure easing. Because it's _Cas._ Because he'd never thought he'd be here next to him, with his dorky little angel, being at Sam's wedding; something that's so important to Dean. He'd never thought he'd get so lucky, never thought he _deserved_ to be so lucky as to just _touch_ Cas. And it's like he's not even nervous anymore; he's _happy._

He's so _fucking_ happy. The happiest he'd ever been in so long.

And then he's walking.

And he doesn't even really realize there are people around him. Because all he really sees is Castiel. Castiel's walking forward, eyes set straight in front of him, smallest smile on his face, enough for dimples to just peek through the skin. The sun hits him like a flower petal falling into a puddle; soft, light, the sun soaking into his eyes just as the water would soak into the petal. And his eyes drown in the light, the orange and pink of the sunset against the blue, like crystal crimson.

And it's just beautiful.

It's absolutely, fucking _beautiful._

He's not even walking Castiel anymore, Castiel is walking _him_ , leading him next to his brother, where they wait for the other pairs to file out. Castiel has his eyes locked on the pairs walking out, smiling at them as each of them separate to their sides. Dean wants to watch them. He really does. But he can't. He's stuck, super glued tight onto the way the sun compliments how gorgeous Castiel really is.

Dean physically and mentally cannot let him go. He _won't_ let him go. There's the biggest chance in the world that he's going to fuck this up, and he thinks he will, but he's going to try as hard as he fucking can to _not_. Because no matter how many times he's told himself that he can push through leaving him on Saturday, that feeling gets punched right in the face by the feeling of _not being able to say goodbye._

"Dean, pay attention." Castiel whispers, and Dean snaps out of it. He glances around and gasps at the change.

_Since when did everyone walk out?_

All the groomsmen, the bridesmaids, and even now _Ruby_ is here. And even Dean has to admit, she looks beautiful. The veil is still flipped over her face, but Dean can still see the way she's looking at Sam, the way she's holding his hands so tightly. Yeah, she can be a bitch sometimes, but Dean knows she'll take care of Sam. Well, she _better_ take care of Sam.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please be seated." The minister raises his hands, and then motions them down. The old man smiles at Ruby and Sam, "We are gathered here today to join Ruby Cortese, and Samuel Winchester in an inseparable bond."

"Love is the reason we are here," The minister says, and Dean sees Sam's grip onto Ruby's hands tighter, "In marriage we say not only "I love you today", but also "I promise to love you for all of our tomorrows"."

Dean hears a rasp behind him. He glances towards Castiel.

He's _crying._

And Dean has never wanted to hug someone so tight. Why he's crying, Dean doesn't know; but it doesn't matter. Dean reaches for his hand, entwining their fingers together. Dean clenches his jaw.

Dean whispers so quietly barely himself can hear it. "It's okay, Cas. It's okay." He says, and the smallest smile spreads across his cheeks. He listens to the minister talk, watching Ruby smile under the veil, teeth white and unable to hide behind her lips. He watches her unhinge a hand from Sam's every once in a while to wipe her cheek. She laughs, and Sam laughs back.

"Sam, would you like to say your vows now?" The minister asks him. Sam clears his throat and pulls a paper out of his pocket. He opens it, looking at the crinkled sheet for a second. Sam huffs a laugh, then he puts the worn paper back into his pocket. Ruby looks confused for a moment.

"As the cliché says, you showed up when I was least expecting you. I intend to love you, hold you, and grow very, very old with you." Sam sniffles, and Dean smiles and shakes his head, "I love you for who you are, and that means I don't expect you to think you're perfect. But to me, your imperfections are perfect. I love you enough to never let you go, and that means that I will always be thinking of you, dreaming of you, wanting and needing you constantly, and hoping you feel the same for me."

Dean holds Castiel's hand tighter.

"Sam—" Ruby laughs, "—You're making my make-up smudge, you jerk."

Sam laughs and flips the veil over, thumbs finding reddened cheeks and wiping underneath her eyes. Sam leans closer to her, "It's your turn to make my make-up smudge now."

Ruby shakes her head, "Sam, when I saw you in the supermarket that day, I thought you were like—the hottest guy I had ever seen." The crowd laughs and Sam chuckles a little, "And then you took the last box of _Frosted Flakes_ , and I hated you. But to repay your due's you took me to that crappy coffee-shop right next door to the supermarket, and that was the day I knew that I didn't want to share crappy coffee with anyone else."

Dean holds tighter.

Ruby continues, her voice a little broken, but she's still smiling, "Through it all you have become my best friend, my lover, and my companion. I promise you forever. And I promise endless boxes of _Frosted Flakes_."

And by the time the rings are settled comfortably onto each of their hands, Dean's sure he may have broken a few bones in Castiel's. But Castiel doesn't pull his hand away. The minister smiles lightly at them both, "In your journey of life together, remind yourselves often of the love that brought you together. Give the highest priority to your love. When challenges come, remember to focus on what is right between you. In this way, you can ride out the storms. And when clouds hide the sun in your lives — remember, even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is always there."

Even tighter, now.

"Sam, Ruby, you have consented together in holy matrimony, have pledged your vows to each other, and have exchanged rings as tokens of your love and commitment to each other. In accordance with the laws of the state of California, and with great joy, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester."

Sam and Ruby stare at each other, the both of them happily smiling and giggling, waiting for the minister to continue.

The minister nudges Sam on the shoulder, "That's your cue!" He laughs. Sam circles his arms around Ruby's waist, pulling her up into the air, her white strapless dress floating. She wraps delicate hands around the back of his neck, smiles against Sam's lips, and then kisses him. Sam picks her up, one arm hooked strongly under the bends of her knees, and the other wrapped around her back. Ruby squeals a little as Sam carries her down the aisle, leading them back towards the tent.

The sun has almost disappeared now, a sliver of it over the horizon, small wedding lights flicker on and light up the field. Castiel hooks his arm through Dean's again.

"Dean," Castiel says softly and tilts his head, "You're crying."

"Yeah," Dean responds, "I know."

* * *

"Sam, as much as I hate chick-flicks and all, I gotta' say, that got me."

Sam scratches the back of his neck and ruffles his hair. Ruby smiles at him and nods, "Thanks, asshole." She jokes with him, a smile spreads across her face that Dean can't help but return.

"You look beautiful," Dean says to them, and then he glances at Ruby, "I guess you are too, Ruby."

She nudges his arm. "Oh ha-ha, funny. So tell me about your friend."

Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's arm, stretching out a free hand to shake Ruby's. Dean smiles, "Oh, this is Cas, he's—"

"So this is who all the fuss is about?"

The four of them draw their attention to the man approaching. Dean chuckles, "Bobby." He grins. Bobby looks weird without his hat, even weirder that he has his hair gelled back against his head. His suit looks a little small for him, and the pink tie he's wearing was _obviously_ not his choice.

"All I've been hearin' all night is "Castiel this, Castiel that" and "who's the pretty boy that Dean's got his hands all over"," Bobby gives Castiel a pat on the back, "Good to finally meet ya', boy. I'm Bobby. I'm sure Dean here's probably told you all about me. Right, Dean?"

Dean shrugs and flashes a nervous smile.

"He mentioned you, yes." Castiel laughs and shakes his hand firmly, "It's great to finally meet you. I'm Castiel Milton."

Dean's stomach settles a little. Everyone's okay with it. And there's no sign of John. And everything is going _fucking perfect._

"Karen, c'mere!" Bobby yells, and Karen comes scurrying from across the tent, her pink floral dress fluttering behind her. She smiles wide and bright when she comes over, "This is Castiel." Bobby points out, and Castiel's cheeks flush.

"Oh!" Karen pulls him into a little hug, which Castiel awkwardly doesn't know how to react to, which makes Dean chuckle, "I'm so happy to finally meet you! You're the word around the tent tonight, Castiel."

Castiel blushes again. Dean wraps a hand around his back and pulls him in a little closer. Just then, a little bell rings.

"Dinner is served!" Someone yells, and rolling tables with silver containers come sliding out. Dean's the first one to book it to the tables.

Sam yells behind him, "Dean, there's a bottle of whiskey in the car, would you mind getting it?"

Dean puts down the plate he's holding, "Only 'cause it's your wedding." Dean yells back to him.

He skips out the tent, motioning to Castiel that he would be right back. Castiel smiles and nods at him. Dean can't even remember why he was ever nervous in the first place. If anything, this day had been one of the best of his life.

He looks around for Sam's car, finally finding the silver Cadillac and opening the back door. He looks, but there isn't a bottle in sight. Not in the front seat, not in the trunk.

"Really, Sammy?" Dean grunts, looking in the backseat again.

"Looking for something?"

Dean's lungs catch in his throat.

_No._

_NO._

He can hear the slur in his voice. The rasp; the broken words. He can hear the _anger._ And all in one moment, his night falls apart.

Dean slowly shuts the door and turns around. The bottle of whiskey is empty and dangling from his hands, his head lolls to one side, brows furrowed so much Dean can barely see his eyes. His jacket is unbuttoned, tie undone and hanging loose over his shoulders, collar unhinged. And Dean has nothing to say. Because it's like he forgets the whole damn English language.

"What did you think you were doing?" He says, hoarse and piercing, taking a step towards Dean. The moon behind him makes the silhouette around him darker, and Dean can see the shine of the moon through the swinging glass bottle in his hand. Dean can feel the heat begin in his core.

"What exactly did I _do_ , Dad?" Dean spits, chest rising quickly. His feet won't seem to move.

John steps closer, and Dean's feet still won't leave. "Walkin' out with 'em? Holdin' his hand like _you two_ were the ones gettin' married." Dean doesn't say anything. He only watches his Dad step closer to him. John walks unsteady until he's inches away from Dean's face, and Dean can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You _disgust_ me." John grits through closed teeth.

"Fuck you." Dean spits right back. He stands still, not a muscle moving, although his mind is telling him to flee. A gray aura starts to set around him.

"Dean?"

Dean's head whips around.

_Cas._

"Cas, get back to the tent." Dean directs, rough and harsh. Dean can feel the heat begin to rise to his face. He clenches his fists.

"But—"

"Get back to the tent now!"

"No," John pushes Dean aside, stumbling quickly over to Castiel, "So this's him? This the fag you've been screwin'?"

Castiel freezes, and his face distorts into fear, his mouth parting and eyebrows raising. The bottle drops from John's hand and tumbles to the ground as he takes one giant leap towards Castiel, grabbing the collar of his white shirt and raising Castiel off his feet.

"You're the fuckin' pillow biter who turned my son into a fucking faggot? You disgusting sonuvabitch, you listen to me you fuckin'—"

Dean does not hesitate _whatsoever_ to hit him in the back of the head with the empty bottle. It shatters, pieces of glass flying everywhere, and John tips to the ground and groans, his body hitting the dirt with a slam.

Dean steps over John, grabbing Castiel's arms and pulling him towards the Impala, "Cas, let's go. _Now._ " Castiel is frozen, body tense and cold, "Cas! C'mon! Now!"

Castiel stumbles a little, but his legs work, dragging across dirt. Dean can hear John try to stand from the dirt, hands and feet scraping the ground.

Dean turns around for a second to see John stumbling up and spitting onto the ground. "I wish it was _you_ who died in the fire that night! I wish it was _you_ instead of Mary!"

Dean shuts his eyes. His feet begin to hurt mercifully, and suddenly it's as if he's walking across rusty nails. Castiel hooks his arm across his back. The walk to the car is the most excruciating thing he has ever done. All he can hear is his Dad's broken words, on repeat in his head, a broken record playing over and over. This is what he was terrified of. This is what he's _always_ been terrified of. He promised himself, he promised _Cas_ that he would protect him, and he _failed._

He _failed._

_You're the fuckin' pillow biter who turned my son into a fucking faggot?_

He failed on the only thing he promised himself that he would do. His hands begin to sting, a sharp burn into the center of his palms.

_I wish it was you who died in the fire that night! I wish it was you instead of Mary!_

"Cas, take me out of here. Bring me somewhere. I don't care. Just get me out of here."

Castiel buckles him in the passengers seat, and then cups the sides of his face with his hands, his eyes red and glassy. His hands wrap tightly onto the back of his neck, and all Dean can see is the foggy presence of him, a translucent figure.

Castiel whispers quietly, "I know just the place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Cliff is the name of Jared and Jensen's actual bodyguard, for anyone that didn't already know!
> 
> Okay, hope you guys don't hate me too much after that one....
> 
> I will update soon, I promise! Let me know how you guys like it, I love reading your comments.


	11. Destination: A Cabin in The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!
> 
> I hope you guys had an awesome holiday!

It's long.

The car ride.

He spends most of the time asleep; of course, he's not ever  _actually_ asleep, instead he just keeps his eyes closed and listens to the way Castiel hums along with the radio, or feels the way Castiel sometimes lays a hand on his knee. Dean turns off his phone too. And Castiel follows when he sees Dean do it, tossing both the devices in the trunk. No communication from the outside world is probably the best for now. Even if it's Sam.

But mostly, the ride consists of darkness from the back of his eyelids, or the constant blur of trees whipping past. It's like that for the  _longest_ time, with Castiel behind the wheel and Dean in the passengers seat. Castiel tries to make conversation a bunch of times, but eventually stops when he notices Dean has no interest in talking.

So, it's silent between them for most of the ride.

And it's the drag of thought that makes the trip the most excruciating. Other than twiddle with his thumbs, Dean's only other option is to get lost in his own thought. Which, when left alone with his own thoughts, can be  _dangerous._

He keeps hearing the sound of shattered glass, running,  _screaming._

_"You're the fuckin' pillow biter who turned my son into a fucking faggot? You disgusting sonuvabitch, you listen to me you fuckin'—"_

_Smash._

_"Cas! C'mon! Now!"_

_Run._

_"I wish it was you who died in the fire that night! I wish it was you instead of Mary!"_

It plays on repeat, a scratched CD stuttering and faulting over and over again. Dean sometimes wonders if maybe they'll just keep driving, never reaching and end, and he'll be stuck, damned for eternity to watch his  _failure_ over and over again.

Why is Castiel with him still? Why does Castiel care enough to take Dean so far away...and better yet, why is Dean letting him? This wasn't supposed to be how things turned out. This isn't how Dean wanted things to go. And now he has no fucking clue what to do.

They stop a bunch of times. Mainly because Castiel has the smallest bladder Dean has ever encountered, and they have to pull over every hour on the hour so Castiel can piss behind a tree. They stop to get gas a lot, to pickup food; but surprisingly Dean doesn't really eat too much. And they stop once to sleep, curled together in the back seat of the Impala, pulled over on I-35, in the dead of night,  _stolen_ hotel pillows and blankets hurdled over them, Castiel's head buried deep into the crook of Dean's neck, where Dean slowly falls asleep to the smell of mint and honey.

That's the shortest part of the ride for Dean.

* * *

It's beautiful.

The cabin.

As soon as Dean steps out of the car, the lake is what catches him, causing him to ignore the house all together and go straight for the backyard, letting Castiel drag in all of their luggage from the trunk.

The sun is peaking over the lake, trying to get a glimpse of the way the water mixes with the different colors of pinks and oranges catching the sun like scales, mixing with the blurry reflection of the pine trees. The lake gleams through a very thin fringe of trees, leaves draping over. Dean's eyes trail to the dirt and sand at the edge, watching the way the water spikes out to catch the ends of the gravel.

"Dean, are you coming in?"

Dean turns, facing the back porch of the wooden cabin, "Yeah, just a second." Dean replies, and soon he hears the sound of footsteps on wet grass coming towards him. Dean looks over his shoulder at Castiel, walking towards him with now a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, "Cas, you never told me you were loaded."

Castiel tilts his head. "Loaded?" He questions, "Dean, I don't carry any firearms."

"No, Cas, Jesus," Dean shakes his head and laughs," Loaded like, money loaded."

" _Loaded_ " isn't even the right word. By the looks of this, Castiel is  _filthy-stinkin'-rich._ The backyard is long, bright green grass coated across the ground until it's broken off by dusty sand at the start of the lake. The cabin behind him, which happens to make Dean's mouth gape every time he looks back, is the cherry on top of a perfect sundae. It's a dark beige, porch steps leading up to a small concrete tile patio. It's two floors, wide and tall and country-like with wood and stone decor. The second floor window is split into four parts vertically, side to side and parallel to the roof, just so Dean can get a glimpse of the room inside. If the outside is this nice, Dean can't imagine what the inside will look like.

"Oh," Castiel blushes, "Well, do you like it?" Castiel says quietly behind him, and then hands brush slightly against Dean's back, "We could sleep out here, if you wanted. It's warm enough, and I have blankets inside."

Dean doesn't respond at first, only chuckling at him and trying to catch a glimpse of when the sun sinks down further. Soon he looks to Castiel and smirks at the blue eyes paying so close attention to him. Dean smiles, "Love it, Cas."

Castiel huffs a laugh, "I grew up here." He says slowly, and then he pops a squat right onto the grass and looks up at Dean, "No one ever comes here anymore. It's truly a shame. The lake is so beautiful."

Dean sits down next to him and nods. Castiel parts his lips again and stares at the lake, "This place belonged to my parents. They gave it to us. Anna, Michael, Gabriel and I, but we rarely ever come up to Kansas anymore. Lawrence, Kansas isn't the ideal place to be, according to my siblings."

"Well, we're here now." Dean comments, eyes on the last little sliver of sun bending over the trees in the distance. Castiel sighs, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his arms.

_We're here now._

Honestly, Dean doesn't really care where he is. Let it be in jail, in the depths of hell, or somewhere in the middle of Kansas, he doesn't care. As long as he's with Castiel. Castiel makes him forget. Castiel makes him happy.

Dean looks over to him, eyes pondering and watching the water ripple colors of orange and white. Dean knows he's still thinking about it; what happened at the wedding. He's going to have to talk to him about it, because Castiel deserves an explanation. But not right now.

"We should go skinny dipping later," Dean looks to Cas and winks, and Castiel spreads his lips into a gummy smile and laughs.

"I'm sure we have plenty of time to get naked together, Dean." Castiel winks back.

Dean sucks in his lower lip. Leave it to Castiel to get him from gloomy to horny in two seconds, "That a promise?" Dean smirks.

Castiel shakes his head, puffing his chest out and looking back at the lake. "You'll find out."

Dean scoffs, "You suck."

Castiel swings his head to him, eyebrows raised and big wide grin plastered onto his face. "Oh, I will be sucking."

Dean's stomach twists, "Are you trying to kill me?"

Castiel laughs, standing up from the grass and making his way back to the porch. He yells back to him.

"That depends, is it working?"

_Yes._

Dean lets out a disgruntled exhale, looking over his shoulder to watch Castiel, or, Castiel's  _ass_ , as he makes his way up the porch steps to disappear behind the sliding doors.

"He looks good in basketball shorts." Dean says to himself, grunting when he stands to follow Castiel into the house. And as soon as he's in, his eyes go  _wide._

The kitchen is huge.

And yes, Dean was right about the inside being nicer than the outside. A speckled granite counter forms an island in the middle of the area, two black stools rest at the edge of the table, a light dangling over them from the ceiling above. The counter that holds the sink, stove, and dishwasher circles around the small island, leaving the refrigerator at the end of the longer counter. Five adjacent windows above the sink display an almost perfect view of the lake. It's dark outside now, the moon giving the water streaks of white. The dim lighting of the cabin gives the room a comfortable and homey feel to it.

It's perfect.

It's honestly fucking perfect.

The kitchen and living room are conjoined, the dark beige living room couch only fifteen feet or so away from the island. In front of that lay a glass coffee table, cliché cookbooks stacked on top of it. A stoned fireplace stood tall in front of the coffee table, wooden mantle above it with family portraits. Dean walks over to the mantle, eyeing the pictures that lay askew on the wooden board.

His eyes draw attention to one picture, though, six people dressed up in front of a blue back drop.

A woman in a dark grey suit, which Dean can only assume is Castiel's mother, has red hair, lips flat and maybe slightly pursed. She lay her hand on a man who is sitting in front of her in a wooden chair with darker hair, in a black suit and a bit of a belly. Dean can only guess that's Castiel's father. Next to him is Anna, gorgeous and sitting in a white dress. She is flat-lipped too, just like Castiel's mother. She is placed next to Gabriel, his eyes hooded and one eye brow raised, lip smirked only so slightly that it's barely noticeable. Dean shakes his head and chuckles at Gabe's sly expression. And seated beside Gabriel is Castiel. Blue eyes dark and shaded in the dim lighting of the room. Face completely blank, showing no expression whatsoever. Castiel's hair is slicked back and he's dressed up in a black suit and tie.

There's a hand on his shoulder, though.

That  _has_  to be Michael.

He looks very similar to Cas. Dressed the same, dark hair slicked, mysterious eyes that are almost unreadable, sharp-cut law line. His eyelids shade over a little, brows furrowing just enough to make him  _intimidating._

Dean clears his throat and forces himself away from the portrait and back to the kitchen. He walks to the window and places his hands flat on the counter, trying to focus on the movement of the water in the lake.

Yeah, they're here now. Okay, cool. But that doesn't get rid of everything to come.

It doesn't get rid of Lisa. It doesn't get rid of Michael. It doesn't get rid of all the pent up worry about Castiel's safety. Dean takes a breath.

"Peanut butter and jelly?"

Dean snaps, turning from his gaze out the window to behind him to the edge of the island counter where Castiel is sitting in one of the chairs holding up a sandwich. Castiel makes a disappointing face and shrugs, "We didn't have anything else in the house. I'll have to go shopping tomorrow. I-I hope you don't mind."

Dean grins and shakes his head, walking to the chair next to Castiel and happily taking it. "Man, I haven't had one of these in a long time." Dean takes a bite and nods at Castiel, "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich, "You should get sleep in a comfortable environment tonight," Castiel starts, voice drained and tired, "I made up your bed."

Dean's head whips and he stops chewing, swallowing hard. "What do you mean,  _my_ bed?"

Castiel's lips part and he hesitates, "Well, I—" Castiel swallows and shrugs, "—I assumed you wanted your own bed."

Dean puts down the half-eaten sandwich on the paper plate. He tilts his head at the now worried man in front of him. "Why would you think I'd want my own bed?"

"I—uh—I mean I thought that you'd only want to share a bed if we had intercourse." Castiel stutters and refuses to look Dean in the eye. Dean can't help but laugh.

Dean stands from the chair, taking a step towards Castiel, hands finding tensed shoulders. Castiel looks pretty dazed, blue irises peaking through long lashes, chest puffed out.

It is a good time to do one of his wise one-liners, but Dean doesn't have time for that. So instead he drags biten fingernails down Castiel's arms until they find his hips, dragging Castiel from the stool and pressing him gently into his own hips. By now, Castiel has gotten the hint, and his hands shakily slide to the back of Dean's neck, and he's pulling him forward until Dean can smell sweet jelly.

Dean moves forward to kiss him, and unlike the sweet smell of his breath, his lips are salty like peanut butter. Dean can feel the ends of his lips curling into a smile. Every time Dean kisses Castiel it seems like it's different every time. More or less, Dean knows that he can never get sick of kissing him, because each time is just something he has yet to experience.

Castiel's hands are bruisingly gentle, the way they travel down Dean's back, bringing Dean closer to him with every movement until there isn't an inch of space between them. Forgetting to go easy, Dean starts to part his lips, forcing his tongue inside Castiel's mouth. Through Castiel's thin shorts, it's not hard for Dean to feel the growing hard-on that's poking him.

Dean breaks the kiss quickly and smirks down at him. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

"Well, if you would like to reach down there and see, I would have no problem with that." Castiel smirks back, fingers toying with Dean's jeans and unbuttoning them. Dean watches his jeans slip down to his ankles.

"Shouldn't we go upstairs?"

"Not patient enough," Castiel groans, charging forward to lock their lips together again, much more fervently than last time, teeth grinding against Dean's bottom lip. Castiel's hands map out Dean's body almost desperately, tugging the t-shirt off of Dean's body like it will kill him if he doesn't do it soon enough. Dean reaches for Castiel's shirt, and he obliges without question, exposing his smooth skin and muscled body which Dean will never get tired of looking at.

Castiel's force is strong, pushing Dean back so his butt plops right back on top of the stool where Castiel is leaning over him and attacking his neck like it's new territory. Castiel is hunched over Dean's body on the stool, hands finding Dean's thighs and spreading them apart so Castiel can fit his hips inside the open space, grinding his cock on Dean's.

Dean hisses, thumbs hooking around the band of Castiel's shorts and tugging them down until they fall to his ankles. And  _seriously,_ does the guy  _ever_ where underwear? Castiel steps out of his shorts, kicking them to the side and stepping back into the slot where Dean's legs are spread to either side, rutting his hard cock against Dean's abdomen where Dean can feel wet pre-come slide against his stomach.

Castiel sucks hard on Dean's tongue and bottom lip before moving to his chest, teeth grazing across his collarbone and skin. Castiel looks up at Dean, which almost  _destroys_ Dean, before he sucks on Dean's nipple, tongue swirling against sensitive skin. Castiel teases one nipple before moving to the other, teeth biting gently around it until Dean's head is thrown back.

Dean can never explain the  _fire_ he feels in his core when Castiel is touching him. If it were up to him, he would stay like this forever; Castiel's fingers brushing his skin, his lips against his, the smell of sweet jelly and salty peanut butter on his tongue. It would just never be  _enough._ Dean will always need more of him, the most he can get. Dean won't be satisfied any other way.

"Cas, go lower." Dean pleas him, and he hears Castiel breathe out a laugh. Castiel hooks his thumbs around the fabric of Dean's boxer briefs, letting Dean's cock spring free against his stomach. Dean almost falls out of the stool when Castiel wraps long fingers around his length, moving his hand slowly upward to spread slick pre-come around the head of his cock.

"What's the magic word?" Castiel straightens out until his lips are skimming against Dean's.

" _Cas_." Dean breathes, lips parted and waiting for Castiel's tongue.

"Although I do like hearing you say my name," Castiel teases, fingers moving back down the base of Dean's cock slowly, "That's not what I was looking for."

" _Please_ Cas!" Dean growls at him. Castiel smiles and slides his body down until his face is slotted in between Dean's legs. Castiel tilts his head again, his  _goddamn_ head tilt, eyes hooded and lust-blown pupils staring so contently up at him like there isn't another care in the world. Dean wants to see everything, every inch of skin, every muscle, every hair. And he wants—he  _needs_  to feel him. Dean feels so  _possessed_ ; so not-in-control when he's with him, when he's touching him.

As if only to make Dean's desire worsen, Castiel nips at Dean's inner thighs, his hipbones, avoiding all contact with Dean's cock on  _purpose._ But Dean just  _lets_ him. Because he's so  _helpless._ And all he can really do at this point is just grip onto the counter with white-knuckles and let out whimpers until Castiel finally gives him what he wants.

Castiel lets his lips skim ever so slightly across the tip, but then returns back to Dean's thighs again, sucking in skin and leaving marks. Castiel's fingers are up forward and running nails against his chest, his nipples and stomach, making new marks on top of old ones. And then finally— _finally_ —Castiel licks a stripe from the bottom of Dean's cock to the tip, letting his tongue take in salty pre-come.

"Jesus— _fuck_." Dean grits through closed teeth, swallowing hard when Castiel's warm tongue touches sensitive skin. Castiel smirks knowingly at him, slowly letting his lips enclose on the tip, letting his head sink down as far as Castiel can go, the tip of Dean's cock hitting slightly against the back of Castiel's throat. Nails dig sharply into the sides of Dean's thighs, squeezing harder the farther down that Castiel goes.

Dean threads fingers into dark hair, watching Castiel pop his head back up only to go right back down, wetting Dean's cock with saliva. Jesus it's only been two minutes and Dean already feels like he's going to come down Castiel's throat. Castiel just knows how to hit all the right spots; pressing his tongue against the sensitive underside of the tip, licking from the base to the top, sucking the tip gingerly into his mouth. It's all so fucking  _perfect._

"Fucking shit, Cas— _so good_ — _fuck_." Dean manages to whimper out, and Castiel pops his head off, licking pre-come off his lips, long fingers moving against Dean's cock and spreading saliva across it. Dean's breath is shaken and uneasy, because  _god,_ he's holding it back. He wants Castiel to keep going but it's so hard not to come down the guys throat, because he could've done that five minutes ago. But Castiel looks up to him like he  _knows_ what he's doing, like he  _knows_ Dean's enduring this, and he seems to get a kick out of watching Dean squirm in the stool like a cat in heat.

Castiel dips his tongue back, moaning as he sinks down, deep vibrations from his throat giving the back of Dean's spine a chill. Castiel uses one hand in sync with his mouth, letting his mouth slide off and on Dean's cock while the other is toying with his balls and inner thighs, making Dean's legs evidently spread wider and wider across the stool.

Castiel fingers spread apart, nails digging and fingers rubbing Dean's skin. And Dean can feel Castiel finger's get  _closer._ And then soft fingers are pushing underneath him towards—

_Oh HELL no._

Dean will do anything with Castiel. He will, really. He just can't do  _that._ Dean doesn't know if he's just not ready for it  _now_ , or if he  _ever_  will be ready for it. And it's not Castiel's fault— for not knowing about it, Dean just hasn't reached that level of  _trust_ yet. Lord knows if he ever will reach  _that level_ of trust. But Dean's not ready—and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he's kind of too scared to tell Castiel that.

So, Dean does what he thinks is right. He leans forward and hooks his arms under Castiel's, pulling him up and letting him flop against Dean's body. Castiel's surprised when their bodies clash, but he doesn't look like he's complaining. Castiel groans wordlessly, his tongue swiping out to catch salty pre-come before he dives for Dean's mouth. Pressure slides in between Dean's lips, and he's thrown back with the saltiness of Castiel's tongue invading his mouth, sucking on his lips.

Dean grabs Castiel's hips and breaks their kiss. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom and lube in one of these thousands of drawers, would you?"

Castiel giggles but shakes his head, hands sliding off Dean's hips as he walks to the couch across from the counter. Yeah, like that isn't an invite to check out his ass.

"Nice ass, Cas." Dean mentions, eyeing the dimples Castiel has at the bottom of his spine, and the way his shoulder blades define the muscles on his back. Castiel turns and gives him a flattered glare. Dean shrugs, "Well you can't just expect me not to look at it."

Dean hears Castiel giggle, and Castiel leans over the couch and lifts a black bag from the cushion. There's the sound of a zipper and some rustling in a bag, and soon Castiel is coming back with a condom and a little bottle of lube in his hand. Castiel puts it on the counter and slots himself back in between Dean's legs, rutting their cocks together and spreading pre-come between them.

Castiel leans close to his ear and flicks his tongue on tender skin underneath his ear. "So, what now?" He whispers.

Dean pushes Castiel back away from him and stands from the stool, flipping Castiel around and pressing his chest flat against the granite counter, "I'm gonna' fuck you on the kitchen counter."

Dean hears Castiel suck in a breath, and Dean lets his cock press into Castiel's ass as he bends Castiel over the counter. Dean leans his stomach across Castiel's back, biting and sucking across shoulder blades and skin. Dean can hear the noises; the whimpers, the groans, the cries, the broken words that Cas is choking out. Dean threads his fingers into Castiel's hair, letting his other hands smooth across the skin of his back, tracing across his ass. Dean kicks Castiel's feet apart like he was frisking him against a wall, spreading his legs.

Dean is about to grab the condom, but he gets another idea. He  _is_ very much willing to try new things with Castiel, and he figures this can't be very much different from  _eating out a girl._ Dean pauses for a second before sinking down on his knees, hands slowly caressing up to each side of Castiel's ass.

"Dean?" Castiel whimpers in question, voice confused and hoarse, head straining to turn and see what Dean is doing, but Dean holds him rough against the counter.

"Shhh." Dean murmurs, "Gonna' make you feel so good, baby. Just relax."

"Dean, what are you— oh,  _fuck_!"

Castiel screams. He actually  _screams,_  when Dean licks a stripe right up his ass. He feels Castiel go tense, legs shaking and breath coming out in quick and shallow rasps. And yeah, it's  _kinda' weird._ But it's also  _kinda' hot as fuck._ The way Castiel tastes, how he's squirming underneath him, breathing and moaning out broken sounds of Dean's name.

Dean doesn't stop, licking and sucking on Castiel's ass, making him wet enough that maybe they actually won't  _need_ any lube. Dean's hands grind hard against his skin, spreading his ass apart so Dean has better access to lap his tongue closer against the skin. With a little smile, Dean decides to take the torture a little further. He spreads Castiel's ass as far apart as he can, and then sticks his tongue right inside him.

"Dean! Oh—oh  _god_ Dean, yes— _fuck_!" Castiel yells, and Dean hears him smash his hands against the granite countertop. Castiel inadvertently begins to grind himself on top of Dean's slick tongue, letting himself ride against Dean's mouth.

Dean suddenly feels a hands tightly entwine with his head, and he looks up to see Castiel twisted on the counter, whimpering as he holds Dean's head in place. Jesus  _Christ,_ seeing Castiel like this; so fervent and so in the palm of Dean's hand. As if Dean can't take Castiel's torture any further, he decides now is a good time to grab Castiel's cock.

And oh  _boy,_ the noise from that man. Dean can feel Castiel's legs begin to shake against him as he strokes him, pre-come dripping down Dean's hand. Castiel practically shoves Dean's face in his ass farther, making Dean's tongue go in as deep as it can possibly go. Castiel is tensing around him, making noises and sounds that Dean has definitely never heard before; moaning and crying out Dean's name like it's the only words Castiel knows.

And Dean doesn't stop for a while, fucking Castiel with his tongue, letting Castiel melt against him, his hand stroking Castiel slowly, pushing him hard up against the counter and making him stay there despite his begs to be fucked. Dean swirls his tongue around his hole, sucking and lapping until Castiel's legs are shaking so much he almost can't hold himself up anymore, like no one had ever made him feel this way before.

And it's actually torture for  _Dean_ too. He just want's to fuck the shit out of the dude, but at the same time he wants to make Castiel feel good, make Castiel feel drunk on his touch. Castiel can't stop rutting himself back against Dean's tongue, fervently eager to feel Dean's tongue around him and inside him.

"Fuck, Dean I-I can't I, please— _fuck me_." Castiel gasps, body  _destroyed_ and shaking eagerly. With a wide grin, Dean stands, tender kisses being places across Castiel's back and across his shoulder blades. Dean nips and bites, reaching for the condom and lube on the counter.

Dean tears it with his teeth, rolling the condom on to himself slowly, watching Castiel writhe on the counter. Dean squeezes a little bit of lube in his hand, although he doubts they will need it at all. Dean feels the heat in his core as he lines himself up, and it's almost impossible to not shove himself in and tear Cas in  _half_ , but Dean alines himself slowly, letting himself sink in carefully.

Castiel groans when Dean's cock is all the way in, Dean's pelvis pressed firmly against Castiel ass, his cock buried deep inside him.

"Shit Cas, so  _fucking_  tight." Dean whimpers under his breath, and Castiel grips the edges of the counter so hard his knuckles are white. Trembling and aroused almost to the point of pain, Dean digs his fingers in Castiel's hips, leaning against him for one more tender kiss on his back before he pulls out and thrusts back in again, a little more rough than intended to be. Castiel cries out.

"Please, Dean just—I really need you, just  _please._ "

Dean starts out slow, moving his slick cock in and out gently, in fear not to hurt him, but Castiel keeps meeting him every time Dean thrusts forward, like he  _wants_ it harder. But Dean just can't do that right away, because he'll come so fast it would be embarrassing. But it is about  _Cas_ , and making  _Cas_ happy, so Dean will hold it in as long as he can and go as  _hard_ as he can.

"You want me to fuck you?" Dean asks, nails dragging across Castiel's back until he's gripping Castiel's shoulder, "Huh?" Dean pulls out and thrusts back into him hard with a loud smack.

" _Yes._  Dean, please fuck me.  _Please_ fuck me." Castiel begs in between shallow breaths, and Dean can see the muscles in his back tense. With one quick smirk, Dean holds a firm grip against him, and then begins giving Castiel what he asked.

And Dean just fucking  _loses it._ His heart, his mind, his senses,  _everything._ Being with him and around him is one thing, but touching him, like  _this_ , is just something that Dean knows he'll never fully recover from. He knows he'll never really be able to get tired of it, to want something else. Because  _this_ is all he wants.

Smacking sounds fill the room, along with moans and whimpers, and Dean can't hold on much longer, engulfed around Castiel's tightness, his warmth. Being inside him, so deep and satisfying, it begins to push him over the edge. But he keeps fucking into him, as hard as he can, his throbbing cock pounding against Castiel enough to almost send him flying off the counter.

Dean starts to feel hot, and he can feel sweat begin to drip down the side of his face. And Castiel,  _oh god Castiel_ , fidgeting underneath him, squirming and moaning and breathing out broken words, letting himself be  _wrecked._ His eyes are screwed shut, mouth parted and lips trembling against the counter top.

"Dean! Fuck, I can't hold it much longer, I'm gonna'— _fuck_!" Castiel's ass tightens around Dean, making it harder to thrust into him, but Dean keeps it up, not letting himself fall weak, no matter how much his body wants to let go. But Dean can feel it, the heat rising in his core, begging, screaming,to be let out. Dean holds Castiel tighter underneath his fingers, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other spreading his ass apart, giving Dean more room to fuck into him.

Yeah, no, Dean definitely can't hold on.

"Cas! Fuck,  _Cas_!"

Dean feels everything tighten up, his legs, his core, his  _everything_ just goes tight, and he can just feel himself come hot inside him, nails and fingers digging hard into his hips. And just like last time, it's like everything goes blurry, and he's heaving and gasping for air, whispering and murmuring broken words of Castiel's name under his breath until he just flops his chest against Castiel's back.

Dean kisses his back tenderly, still out of breath, listening to the man beneath him gasp and moan.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean breathes.

Castiel takes a minute to respond back, clearly still in recovery. "Yes, Dean?"

"We're still sleeping in the same bed, right?"

Castiel chuckles. "Yes, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you guys like it, your comments always make my day.


	12. Destination: The Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today...but since you guys seemed to like Castiel's point of view...I decided to do it again.

_Step 1: Mix the flour, salt, and butter in a large bowl. Then, slowly add the water._

With a wooden spoon, he stirs the ingredients together, adding the water next as directed. He wipes the discarded flour that coats his hands on his apron, then proceeds to squint his eyes back at the cookbook.

_Step 2: On a floured counter-top, begin to roll the dough out into a circle shape about 2 inches (5.1 cm) larger in diameter than the pan. Then, place the rolled dough into the pan. Cut off excess edges._

He gently takes the dough, careful not to tear it, he places it in the tin pan and begins to rip off the pieces of dough curling over the sides. He pulls the apple cinnamon mixture out of the fridge that he had previously made, emptying it into the pan on top of the dough.

_Step 3: With the remaining dough, roll it out on a flat surface and then slice into 10 long strips. (4-5 inches each)_

He does just that, after cutting the strips he places five strips going horizontally on top of the pan, and five strips going vertically above the other strips.

_Step 4: Cook for 45 minutes, or until crust is golden brown. Take it out of the oven and let it cool for 30 minutes before serving._

He slides on red oven mitts, gently gliding the pan into the oven.

"Cas, what are you doing?"

He turns quickly, red oven mitts in the air, facing a very sleepy-looking Dean in front of him. Castiel feels himself blush.

"Caught ya'  _red-handed_ , huh?" Dean chuckles and moves towards him, giving him a once over, "What's with the stay-at-home-mom getup?"

Castiel shrugs and looks down, clearing his throat as he awkwardly throws off the oven mitts and slides the dirty apron off his waist. He was hoping Dean wouldn't get up for another half hour, so he could have cabin fill with the sweet smell of apple pie when Dean woke up. Castiel contemplates not telling him, maybe bullshitting a little and just say he was experimenting with ingredients. But Dean stands there with that smolder, a grin crawling across his cheek, dirty blonde hair scampered across his head, shirtless and a loose pair of gym shorts hanging low on his hips, the black inked tattoo standing out blatantly on his chest — and its because of that, that Castiel can't really come up with a good excuse, instead just standing there with his mouth open and eyes hesitantly flicking around the room.

"I made you a pie."

_Dammit._

Dean tilts his head and takes a few steps forward towards Castiel. "You did?"

He shrugs, "Well, you slept late." Castiel pushes the oven mitts to the side and turns away from Dean so he won't see his eyes roll. Castiel really didn't have anything better to do with his time—considering Dean slept in until  _three in the afternoon._ Castiel had woken up bright and early; went grocery shopping and unpacked everything by noon, and Dean still hadn't gotten up. Castiel was just too soft to wake him, so instead he sat outside for a while and wrote in his journal, admiring the lake. It wasn't until he had started burning underneath the hot sun that he decided to come inside again and hopefully have something special for Dean when he woke up.

Castiel feels arms slip in front of him and rest on his stomach, followed by hot breath on his neck, "Well, you tired me out last night." Dean whispers in his ear. Castiel chuckles at him, melting back into the warmth of Dean's chest on his spine.

It's still odd to him, and most likely will continue to be odd to him, that him and Dean are  _here._ They can touch one another, they can be with one another, they can  _hold_ another without any constant worry. Well, without  _as much_ constant worry. Of course there is still Michael on his mind. He hasn't really quite been able to stop replaying the memory in his head.

* * *

_"Castiel are you ready for the — oh my god! What are those!"_

_Castiel froze. Everything in his body had tensed; and all he could feel was this_ cold,  _this_ chill  _crawl underneath his skin. He couldn't take his eyes away from Michael's. No matter how hard he screamed at himself in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to move his muscles, he couldn't look away._

_Anna was the first one who spoke up._

_"Michael," She started, a deep whisper followed by a sharp inhale, "Take a deep breath."  
_

_"Deep breath?" Michael said, the top curves of his lips pointing, grinding his teeth, "Castiel,_ _what have you done?" Michael looked to him._

 _Castiel, still completely unable to move, hesitantly opened his mouth. He couldn't use any excuse. Michael wasn't an idiot, and Castiel knew that. But it was_ how  _he was going to tell him the truth that was going to be the hard part. Castiel knew he had to bluff a little, avoid telling Michael that it had been a guy._

 _Castiel's mouth hesitantly twitched, "Michael, it was_ _—"_

 _"Castiel didn't mean to get involved with_ him _, Michael." Anna interrupted him, "It won't ever happen again, right Cas?"_

_Castiel whipped his head to Anna, big-eyed and nodding at him quickly._

_"Anna!" Gabriel cut in, yelling to her under his breath. Castiel looked toward his brother, eyebrows furrowed deeply above hollowed eyes. Gabriel looked horrified, like he had just been stabbed in the chest. And for a moment, Castiel couldn't figure out why. But then he realized it; what Anna had said._

_She said 'him'._

_Castiel swallowed hard._

_"Him?" Michael raised his voice greatly, a loud boom echoing in the office, "Did Anna just say_ him,  _Castiel? It was a man?"_

Don't you dare nod your head, Castiel.

_He nodded his head._

_Michael's expression went blank. "You've done it again, Castiel. You've sinned! You've disappointed us! Mother, me,_ God _!. How could you do this? How could you be such a disappointment? Hasn't mother punished you enough?"_

* * *

Castiel can't really seem to remember much after that. He just remembers the office growing smaller, the yelling, the piercing eyes that never left his, the feeling that he meant  _nothing._ And very slowly, he's been feeling that fade away. The feeling of nothing; fading into a feeling of  _purpose._ He feels like  _Dean's_ purpose.

"Cas?"

Castiel hitches and turns around to face Dean, now looking down at him with furrowed brows. "Hm?"

Dean grabs him by the shoulders. "You alright there, man?"

_No._

"Yes."

Castiel can tell Dean doesn't buy it. Castiel knows he, himself, wouldn't buy it either. But Castiel knows Dean's smart; that he won't ask for details in a place too dull. Well, Castiel knows that Dean is, plain and simply, just not a  _talker._ Which is one thing that Castiel wishes was different. He doesn't know why Dean doesn't like to  _talk things out_ , he doesn't know why Dean tries so painfully hard to avoid the inevitable — but he just does. Castiel doesn't know why, and he won't ask.

"Okay, well I'm going to go take a shower," Dean starts, fingers softly trailing from Castiel's tensed shoulders to his fingers, "And then what do you say we have some of that pie when I get out? Maybe take a dip in the lake after," Dean winks. Dean's ability to warm Castiel's coldness still awes him. How someone can make you laugh even when you don't want to smile is something Castiel will never figure out. 

Castiel can't help but let his lips curve into a smile, "That sounds nice." He says, entangling his fingers into Dean's. Dean kisses his forehead gently, and then swiftly moves away, disappearing up the wooden stairs and leaving Castiel alone in the kitchen with the smell of apple pie starting to spread. Castiel stands there, still, until he hears the pipes jolt and the sound of water rushing over his head.

He then takes the opportunity to climb up the stairs himself and creep into the bedroom, leaning over the bedside table to snag his journal from the drawer. He looks across the bed and to the bathroom door slightly ajar, where hot steam peaks through the cracks and the sound of Dean singing a very bad version of Led Zeppelin's _All My Love._ Castiel smiles slowly to the sound — although bad, the sound is still very good to him, it's comforting.

It is comforting to Castiel's edge — where in as, he knows he needs to leave the room. And he does leave the room, pencil and journal in hand. Not because he hates the husky tone of his voice, but because it was  _overwhelming._ All of this is overwhelming, actually. The way Castiel feels about him — it causes him to be the most overwhelmed Castiel has ever felt, because he knows that things as wonderful as  _this_  don't last forever.

Castiel comes back down into the kitchen and plops down on one of the stools near the island, flips open to a new page, and begins to write.

_October 2nd_

_I'm not as sure of this as I was before. He is still here and well, but something seems to be bothering him._  
_I'm fairly sure a great deal of it belongs to the incident with his father..._  
_I remain unable to mention the incident. I can tell it's too difficult for him to talk about._  
_And I don't want to intrude on his feelings, especially if I'm unsure of where this path is taking us._  
_I like him._  
_I really do...to the point where I fear I may be in way over my head._  
_I'm afraid to ask him about his feelings for me._  
_I want to, very badly, but I shouldn't ask questions that I do not want to know the answer to._  
_I am finally in a place where I feel safe, protected, trusted._  
_I do not want to lose that._  
_I do not want to lose him._  
_But I'm afraid to ask him to stay._

Castiel stops there and taps his pencil on the paper. He never realized how much he wanted Dean to stay until he wrote it down on paper. But now that it's blatantly staring straight in front of him, he realizes just  _how bad he wants it._ He realizes how much Dean means to him—  _what_ he means to him. And he'll be damned if he ever lets that go.

It's been a little over a week, and never before has Castiel felt so close to someone in such a short time, so comfortable, so  _himself._ As complicated as Dean may be, Castiel doesn't want anyone else to have such an important place in his heart.

And Castiel almost cringes when he thinks about how cliché that sounds, but he knows that it's painfully true. It's so painfully true that all Castiel does for the next half hour is stare at the written words on the paper and try to come up with a rational explanation for what he had wrote. But the more that he tries to come up with something, the more he starts to realize that his explanation has been staring back at him for the past  _week._

And he's just been in  _denial_ about it. He's been in denial because he knows  _this_ feeling all too much — he knows the dangers. He knows the risks. He knows that once he admits it to himself that there's no going back from it. Castiel knows what this feeling is.

And he doesn't know why the hell he can't say it out loud.

"Hey, Cas."

Castiel sharply inhales and then turns his head to the man standing at the end of the stairs with wet hair still hanging loosely above his eyelashes. Castiel slams his journal closed.

Dean makes a disgruntles face. "Is something burning?"

Castiel gasps. "Shit!" He hops out of the stool, almost tripping over himself to run to the oven, slipping on the oven-mitts and pulling out a dark brown-edge crusted apple pie. Castiel flops it angrily onto the counter and whips the oven mitts off his hands. He leans back against the countertop and drags a hand down his face.

"I screwed up." Castiel says.

Dean chuckles a little and walks next to Castiel, leaning gently next to him and scanning his eyes over the slightly burnt pie. "Sammy used to burn the pie's he made me, too," He laughs as he fans out the steam, "I like them better when they're a little burnt."

Castiel blushes widely. And he doesn't really know what to say, which leaves him awkwardly sitting there like an idiot while Dean watches his cheeks turn bright pink.

"So how about," Dean picks up on Castiel's silence and positions himself in front of Castiel, his hands gently resting on his hips, "While we wait for this bad boy to cool, why don't we go take a dip in the lake, huh?"

* * *

The water turns out to be much colder than he expects it to be. So much that he can hear the echo of his own teeth chattering in his head. The sun had just begun to go down under the pine trees, leaving the familiar glow of pink and orange across the water. He pushes through the water, the squishy feeling of sand and pond-weed in between his toes.

Castiel can see Dean's back — glistening with the aftermath of water, like scales across his skin reflecting the colors of the water. The dimples of his back bury deep into his skin, and soon disappear when he dips farther into the lake until only his collar bone his lining the water. Castiel didn't think he could get any more beautiful — but Dean proved him wrong.

Dean faces Castiel when Castiel dips far into the water next to Dean. "There's no like water snakes or stuff in here, right? Leeches, water rats, the Loch ness Monster?"

Castiel smirks, "No. Just a disgusting amount of pond-weed."

Dean smirks back at him and dunks his head back against the water, coming up and letting it run down his eyes and neck. As if  _that_ didn't give Castiel a boner. Dean musses up his hair and lets it run wildly across his head.

"You're doing that on purpose." Castiel points out, shaking his head and watching Dean grin like he's proud. "Do you think you're cute?" Castiel jokes sarcastically.

"I think I'm adorable." Dean purses his lips. Castiel rolls his eyes. Dean laughs and takes his hands to mess up Castiel's hair, "Not as adorable as you, though."

"Nice save." Castiel nods, trying to hide the dark pink heat spreading through his cheeks. Dean smiles back at him like he knows the kind of effect he has on Castiel. Well, it's not really hard for a compliment to make Castiel blush; especially when it comes from Dean. But even just looking at Dean can sometimes make Castiel blush —like  _now_ , actually, as Dean's hair darkens as the water soaks into it and hangs loosely over his forehead, the way that the water and sun spreads across his eyes bringing out every speck of green and gold, the damp wetness across the sharp jawline and collarbone.

God, Castiel feels a red as a damn tomato.

To save himself from sheer embarrassment, Castiel draws a random question from the back of his mind. A stupid, random question that Castiel actually had no intention to ask him but did anyways.

"What does your tattoo mean?"

Dean looks down to his chest, to the black star encircled in a ring of fire, and then clears his throat. He hesitates to answer for awhile, as if debating whether to tell Castiel, but he parts his lips and looks Castiel dead in the eye. "It was for my brother. I was twenty-six and he was eighteen when we got them." Dean says, letting his eyes trail across the water, "He used to be afraid of monsters when we were younger, so I did some research and found that this, an anti-possession symbol, was supposed to protect you from things that go bump-in-the-night."

Dean laughs to himself and shakes his head before he continues. "I drew it on pieces of paper and stuck them all over Sammy's room and I told him that as long as this was near him, nothin' was ever gonna' hurt him. And uh, well, now I guess we both have it on us forever."

"Sam has one too?"

"Yup. Same as me."

Castiel smiles gently. "That was very nice of you, Dean."

Dean looks down to the water and exhales. "Yeah, yeah. I don't know, I guess it grew on me."

Castiel watches his expression closely; the way his eyes trail off like he's remembering past memories. Castiel never realized how much Sam meant to Dean. Speaking of which...

"Have you called him?"

"Sam?" Dean raises his eyebrows and sucks in a breath, "I haven't touched my phone since we got here. Sam's smart, he knows I wouldn't ditch him without a reason."

Castiel shrugs. "You should call him later, just in case."

Dean nods at him and then moves closer until Castiel feels the hot humidity radiating off his skin from the water. Castiel feels Dean's hands graze across his back. "Thanks, Cas. For this. For everything."

"It's my pleasure, Dean." Castiel assures him. Dean slots closer to him, and Castiel pulls him in, watching Dean's lips inch closer to his. And as soon as Dean's damp lips touch his, Castiel can feel his stomach twist, and soon he's mapping out Dean's skin with his fingers underneath the chill of the water, pulling him closer against his hips. Thank  _God_ they were both naked, so Castiel could feel Dean's cock rut against his own.

It was the perfect time to be able to touch him, because Castiel had been aching for it all morning. Dean lips open and he slides his tongue inside Castiel's mouth, hooking his hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer against his body, where Castiel can feel Dean's hardening cock against his stomach. Castiel thrusts his hips forwards against him, and Dean whimpers a little at the feeling of friction.

Dean sucks on Castiel's bottom lip, next kissing the lines of his jaw and under his ear, and then to his neck, where he sucks in skin and swirls his tongue, making Castiel groan under his touch. Castiel entangles fingers into dark, wet hair.

"We should go inside." Castiel points out, pulling Dean's head away from his neck. Dean smiles and nods, finding Castiel's hands under the water and pulling him out of the lake, not even bothering to acknowledge the towels they had previously set out on the deck. They ignore the pie, instead leaving watered footprints against the wooden floor all the way to the couch, flopping on top of the cushion, sending water droplets everywhere across the room.

Dean hovers over him, kissing across his body and chest, nipping at skin so gently. Dean finds Castiel's nipples, grazing careful teeth around the sensitive skin, causing Castiel's back to arch up into Dean. Dean's fingers press hard into his hips as he kisses up to Castiel's collarbone and neck, until Dean finds Castiel's mouth again.

"Fuckin' love this, Cas." Dean sucks on Castiel's ear, "Fuckin' love touching you."

Castiel bites his bottom lip. Listening to Dean talk like this, to hear how  _deep_ his voice gets when he's turned on — it's agonizingly  _sexy._ Castiel's hands grip Dean's ass, rutting him up against his cock, desperate to feel his slick pre-cum slide across his skin.

But then, they're abruptly stopped by the obnoxious sound of a phone ringing.

Castiel parts from Dean's lips, "I think that's mine." 

Dean groans but moves away, "Ugh, I'll get it."

"It's most likely just Gabe, or Anna. They're probably worried about my whereabouts." Castiel sits up on the couch and covers his erection with his hands. He stares at the fireplace, listening to Dean flip open his phone.

"Hello?" Dean says. 

It's silent for a minute, and soon Castiel hears the gentle footsteps behind him. Dean steps in front of him, phone pressed against his ear for a second, and soon he holds his arm out shakily, his mouth parted and eyelids twitching hesitantly. 

Dean swallows.

"It's your mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a wonderful New Year!
> 
>  
> 
> Update will be soon, let me know what you guys think!


	13. Destination: Dinner with Naomi Milton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, jeez! Sorry this took so long you guys, I had midterms for a while and this chapter was a pretty difficult one.

"Everything'll turn out fine, I know it."

Actually, he doesn't know. He has no _fucking_ clue whether _anything's_ going to be okay or not, he just knows that's exactly what Castiel wants to hear because it's easier and simpler than telling him the truth.

He's repeated himself multiple times. So much that it's actually become a habit. Castiel will just say something and all Dean will say back is _"everything will turn out fine"_. And maybe if he says it enough, it'll convince himself too.

They had spent all day getting ready for this. When they woke up this morning, they had gotten _straight_ to work. Castiel had rapidly ran through the house and dusted and wiped down every surface, despite the fact that everything had already been clean before. Dean had spent his time in the kitchen, cooking and baking, getting the meal prepared for tonight.

They had sat down on the couch together and reviewed _over_ and _over_ what they were each going to say. Of course, whatever Castiel said had just managed to go in one ear and right out the other, and the only thing Dean saw was Castiel's lips moving, although he couldn't make out anything of what he was saying. And besides, Dean wouldn't listen anyways, even if he _could_ hear him. He would be too stubborn to follow Castiel's rules.

Dean isn't scared. He isn't freaking out like a child. He's not complaining and whining again and again about how he wishes this wouldn't happen. Because he doesn't _know_ what's going to happen. And it's the uncertainty, the doubt, the unsureness — _that's_ what's making him so indecisive about his feelings. He doesn't know what cards he's going to be dealt. He doesn't know the cards being dealt to the others.

He's just going to have to play the game.

Dean is setting the three white ivory plates onto the dining room table when Castiel comes rushing down the stairs.

"Is this too formal?" Castiel splays his arms out when he reaches the bottom step. Dean sets the last plate down and smiles when he sees the blue tie, black suit, and tan trench coat he missed so much. Yeah, it is a little too formal, but Dean doesn't want him to change out of it.

Dean shakes his head. "Not at all."

Castiel exhales and nods slowly. "You should change. I don't think she will like that shirt."

Dean scoffs, "What? Mommy's not a fan of classic rock?" He laughs and gestures to his black _Led Zeppelin_ shirt. Castiel frowns.

"No, Dean." Castiel adjusts the tie, "She's not a fan of anything."

Dean's smile fades quickly. It's not hard to tell that the moment his mother steps through that door, everything will change. Dean steps closer to Castiel, still stupidly adjusting his tie on the last step.

"Cas," Dean starts, leaning a shoulder against the sleek wooden railing, "Everything'll turn out—"

"No, Dean!" Castiel raises his voice, throwing his hands down to his sides. He looks Dean so hard in the eye that no matter how hard Dean tries to pull them away, he can't. "You don't understand, everything _won't_ turn out fine."

Dean stiffens. He can feel the skin on his arms grow cold. He steps from the wooden railing and positions himself in front of Castiel, grabbing the sides of his arms tightly. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Castiel's eyelids twitch. "Yes."

"So, tell me, what's going to happen to you?" Dean asks, knowing quite well that Castiel knows the answer just as well as he does. But, Castiel remains silent, eyes staring so concentrated on the floor. Dean tightens his grip on Castiel's arms.

"What's going to happen to you, huh?" Dean repeats. Castiel still doesn't answer. Dean moves his grip from his arms to the sides of his face, "Huh, Cas?" He repeats louder.

Castiel's lips move, and he mutters something out so silently that Dean can't hear it.

Dean moves closer to him. "What was that?"

"Nothing." Castiel says, his eyes finally deciding to take the chance to look at Dean, "I said nothing."

Dean nods, eyebrows creasing seriously. "Exactly. _Nothing_ is going to happen to you while I'm here. I mean it."

And he does. He does mean it. He'll be damned if anything does happen to Castiel under his control. He doesn't know anything about what's going to happen, but he does know one thing for sure: that Castiel won't get hurt.

Dean's hands slide to the back of his head, and Dean slowly strides to the step Castiel rests on, pulling him in close so that Castiel's face in buried deep into the crease of Dean's neck. And they stay like that until Dean starts to feel Castiel's heart beat reside smoother in his chest. Castiel's heated breath is warm and shaken on Dean's neck, and every time Castiel exhales against Dean's skin, he holds him tighter.

Castiel leans back and smiles at Dean.

"I know." Castiel says in confidence.

* * *

It's the ugliest grey suit that Dean has ever seen. Even from the distance of him peeking through the curtain and out the window to watch Castiel's mother get out of her slick black Audi, Dean's almost positive that the suit most certainly should be _burned_ off the planet.

And he thought the suit that Castiel lent him was ugly.

Dean's too far away to make out details of her body; her hair color, her eyes, how many wrinkles the old hag has on her face. She stops for a second to take a look at the house, placing her hands on her hips and puffing her chest out gradually.

"Is she here?"

Dean lets go of the curtain and turns around to face a most _horrified_ Castiel. Dean shrugs.

"Is she wearing a grey suit?" Castiel asks again.

"Unfortunately." Dean responds with a smirk. Castiel frowns and Dean can see his chest start to rise and fall quickly, "That suit is fifty shades of  _ugly._ "

Castiel scowls at him. Dean laughs and takes a last peek out the curtain. "So, did she bring along Christian Grey, or what?" Dean laughs again. Castiel steps forward and slaps him across the arm.

"This is not a time for jokes, Dean." Castiel says angrily. Dean grins to himself and backs away from the window. Castiel turns to Dean and nods, "Go to the kitchen. I'll get the door."

Dean does what he's told, walking to the kitchen and making use of himself by taking out silverware and napkins. Castiel is pacing back and forth in front of him in the dining room, running hands across his hair to smooth it down.

And then, there's the knock.

The three slow, hard, strikes against the wood that inadvertently make Dean jump every time he hears the noise.

And then, he's _terrified._

He's been telling himself over and over that he was fine, that he could handle this, that he could take control; but the truth is, he doesn't _know_ if he can handle this, he doesn't _know_ if he can take control. Everything is just _unknown._

Dean watches Castiel stride to the door, gripping the knob for a few seconds before he twists it and begins to let the door swing. Dean looks away and reverts his attention back to the silverware in his hand. He can hear her voice. It's low and raspy, kind of vaguely, _witch-like_. He can hear the click of her heels against the wooden floor, getting louder and louder.

_Don't look. Don't look. Don't look._

He glances.

She's already staring at him.

"Castiel, introduce me."

Her dark red hair is tied back into a bun, bangs hung tightly over her forehead. She's very well kept, not what Dean had expected at all; instead having very smooth skin for her age, pursed lips glassed with lipstick and blushed cheeks. Her eyebrows crease down, not much, but enough to make her threatening. Dean can tell where Anna gets the looks from, with her dark red hair and intimidating demeanor. She looks nothing like Castiel, except for her eyes. Castiel has his mother's eyes.

And Dean was right about the suit being absolutely hideous. Even more so up close.

"Mother, this is Dean Winchester." Castiel says.

Castiel's mother sticks her hand out forward. Dean stares at it for a second before gripping it loosely. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Milton."

"Please," She tilts her head, "Naomi."

"Naomi." Dean repeats, letting go of her hand. Dean hears Castiel swallow next to him. So far, so good. Or at least, Dean _thinks_ so.

"Well we shouldn't let this wonderful meal go to waste," Naomi portrays a half-ass smile and gestures her hand towards the dining room, "Shall we?"

Dean nods, allowing Castiel's mother to lead to the table first. As soon as she turns around, Castiel glances at him and smiles. He also gives a slight nod. Dean obviously concludes that's a good thing, given as he hasn't screwed up anything yet, and he doesn't further intend to.

Dean slides down in the chair across from Naomi, letting Castiel take the head spot. It's completely silent when they sit down, and continues for a few moments after. Dean wanders his eyes aimlessly and sees Castiel reach for his glass of water.

Castiel's mother slaps his arm.

"Castiel!" She spits at him, tilting her head, " _Grace_."

Castiel clears his throat as his mother tightens her old fingers around his hand. Castiel grabs Dean's hand quickly. Then, Naomi reaches her other hand forward and opens it up softly to Dean. Dean takes it without hesitation, although his fingers are a bit shaky.

Castiel inhales sharply, "Bless, O Lord, this food to our use and us to thy service, and keep us ever mindful of the needs of others. In Jesus' Name, Amen." He says quickly in one short breath, without any hesitation or stutter to his voice.

Naomi mutters "Amen" under her breath and then reaches for her glass of water. Dean reaches for his too, only because he's waiting for someone else to grab food first so he doesn't have to initiate it. Castiel reaches for a piece of bread.

"So, Dean," Naomi says, resting her glass perfectly onto the coaster, "Tell me, what do you do?"

_Shit._

A part of him wants to lie about it a little, portray himself as more successful than he actually is, but a part of him knows he will eventually regret lying to this woman. Dean's stomach twists, but he tells the truth, "My Uncle and I own an auto-repair shop." Dean nods and reaches for a piece of bread.

Naomi nods, her facial expression unchanging from it's seriousness. "So, you're a mechanic?"

Castiel huffs at his mother's snarky response. "Yes, he's an excellent one at that, too."

Dean glances at Cas. Castiel has never actually seen him in action while working on a car, but Dean knows that Castiel is only trying to _amp-up_ Dean's _appearance._ Dean feels incredibly judged. Yes, he's felt judged before, but never _quite_ like this. For the first time, he knows what it feels like to stand naked on stage.

"Saving old cars, fixing things, the family business," Dean adds, with a smirk, finally loading his plate with food,"I was born into a family of mechanics, really."

Naomi's expression still doesn't change. "Ah, the family business. I see. Siblings?"

_Shit shit shit shit._

Castiel shoots him a look; one that Dean has _never_ seen before.

Dean nods. "Uh, yes."

Naomi cuts harshly into a piece of steak. "Do they accompany you in your, _family business_?"

Dean clears his throat and glances toward Castiel again, chewing slowly and letting his eyes flicker between Dean and his mother. Dean can see it in his face. He's not talking at all, but Dean can hear him as clear as day.

_"Don't say it."_

Dean almost listens to him. He almost doesn't say it. But you know _fucking_ what? If _Dean_ is going to be with Cas, and _Cas_ is going to be with Dean, Dean needs to be honest with his family. He needs Castiel's family to accept him for who he _is_ , just like Dean's family had accepted Castiel. Minus John, of course. So, for a moment, Dean _almost_ listens. _Almost_.

"My younger brother, Sam, he's a lawyer. Just got hitched a few days ago, actually."

Castiel swallows distinctively hard. Dean forks a few pieces of buttered pasta and stuffs it in his mouth.

Naomi clears her throat. "You're brother is a married lawyer, and you're a mechanic?"

"That's right," Dean sighs. Naomi purses her lips and nods, however she doesn't say anything after that. She's silent. Completely _dead_ silent. And for a few seconds, there's only the faint sound of the silverware clashing against the plates. Castiel rubs Dean's knee for a second under the table. Maybe Castiel's mother wasn't _as bad_ as Castiel had made her out to be. Obviously she seems a bit problematic, but she hasn't been a complete ass to Dean yet.

So maybe, just _maybe_ this dinner will last more than thirty minutes. Because _God_ knows that Dean's last family dinner had a total run time of only twenty; probably not even that long. So maybe, just _fucking maybe_ they'll make it to the end of the meal.

Dean starts to swallow his food a little better. He looks up from his plate and smiles genuinely at Castiel, and Castiel smiles right back.

"So a lawyer, huh?"

Dean breaks his glance from Castiel and focuses his attention to Naomi, already staring at him with pure _disgust._

Dean parts his lips and hesitates for a few moments, "Uh—"

"What made you want to pursue a career in automotive vehicle repair?" Naomi cuts him off and puts her silverware down.

_Make it to the end of the meal, my ass._

"Like I said, it was a family business thing," Dean says.

And yes, that's not a lie. But, he isn't telling the _entire_ truth. He had gotten stuck with the mechanic job because any other job at the time would've prevented Dean from being there for Sam. The auto-repair shop was a part time job that did the trick. Dean didn't have time for anything else. No time for school, no time for jobs, no time for _nothing._ It was all just _Sam._ Dean was twenty-two when Sam left for college, and without his _own_ college degree, the only job that Dean was either going to get was the one he already had, or a job at McDonald's.

Naomi just nods her head again, "You know, Castiel is the CEO of a payroll company."

Dean smiles, "Yeah, he's told me all about it. Seems like a pretty hard-ass job if you ask me. Sitting in those square box things all the time. What are they again? Oh yeah, _cubicles_."

Castiel giggles a little, but then immediately stops when his mother shoots him a glare.

"My son worked _very_ hard to get where he is today," She says sternly at him, "And I—"

"Mother," Castiel cuts her off, "Please."

His mother hesitates to stop, her lips quivering and urging to speak again but she eventually lets them seal shut. Castiel rubs Dean's knee underneath the table again. It soothing, but also vaguely _terrifying_ ; because it means that Castiel wants him to _keep pushing through this._ But the thing is, Dean doesn't want to keep pushing through this. It's awkward and unnerving and just all levels of uncomfortable and Dean just _hates_ it. He hates it, he hates it, he _hates_ it. He knows Naomi knows that they've _slept together_ , because that's why she's _here_ ; because Michael called about Castiel's _marks,_ which were all Dean's _fault_.

And it's just so _fucking_ awkward.

Naomi pleasantly dabs her mouth with a napkin and then carefully begins to eat again, forking a few green beans. Her fork his forcibly hard on the plate. She stops stabbing her plate and looks forward, flicking her eyes back and forth between Dean and Castiel.

She looks down at her plate again. "I apologize." She says calmly.

"Do not apologize to me, Mother." Castiel shakes his head and looks sternly to her, "Apologize to Dean."

_Damn, atta' boy, Cas.  
_

Dean bites the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. Like seriously, _you_ go, _Cas_. He's been quiet the whole night pretty much, and of course when he does talk, it's with sincere attitude. Dean's got a keeper, that's for sure.

Naomi swallows and looks towards Dean, "Dean, I apologize for my behavior."

Dean nods and reverts his attention back to his plate. "Forgiven."

"But—"

Dean perks up and looks at her again. Her lips are parted and twitching, eyes wandering aimlessly below her. She doesn't respond for a while, and eventually Dean just decides to ignore it, picking up his cup of water and bringing his lips to the edge of the glass.

"But, you cannot be with my son."

Dean chokes on his water.

Castiel shoots up out of his seat, "Excuse me?"

Naomi stands directly after, throwing her napkin hard onto the table. "Castiel, I _forbid_ you to see this man. _Ever_."

Castiel winces. "Mother, I will not—"

"Castiel, enough!" Naomi yells, stepping closer to her son, "How many times have I told you? How many times have I _showed_ you, that _this_ is a sin! You are not allowed to be with this man!"

"I can be with whoever I please!" Castiel yells right back at her, not even taking a quick second to hesitate. Dean is completely frozen in the chair, holding his breath and squeezing his pants so tight he thinks he might rip a hole through the fabric.

Naomi's face begins to turn malevolent, and she holds a pointed finger at him. "No, Castiel, you cannot. It is against _my_ word!"

"And you're not _God_! _God_ loves all of Earth's creatures. And _you_ are no _fucking_ God."

Naomi gasps. "How dare you speak to me like that!" She raises her arm slightly, her palm unraveling. But her hand begins to shake, and she lowers it slowly.

Castiel's face sinks. "Go ahead. Hit me. I don't care. I'm a homosexual, and I don't _fucking_ care. You can't change me, Mother, though you try."

Naomi's fist clenches tightly, and she lowers her arms down to her sides. "Castiel, I am going to tell you one more time, you _cannot_ be with this man."

Castiel stands in front of her and shakes his head, his lips roll into a thin line and his eyes begin to stare so contently into hers. "Get out of my house."

His mother stiffens. "Castiel!"

"Get the _fuck_ out of my house!" Castiel repeats, louder this time, his voice booming so loud it echoes through the house. Naomi's chest starts to quicken, and she begins to raise her arm again.

And she doesn't hesitate at all this time.

She hits him hard against the side of the face, and the sound echoes louder than Castiel's voice. And Dean doesn't hesitate to stand up at all after that. His legs stress to work, but they stand, and he rushes to Castiel's side, but Castiel puts a hand against his chest and holds him back. Dean reaches a hand forward, but somehow finds that his arms have become too heavy to hold up, so he just stands there in the middle of it all without a word.

"Once again, I _prohibit_ you from seeing this man, Castiel! You are coming home with me!" She yells, and then draws her attention towards Dean, "And you! Do you realize what you have done?!"

Dean parts his mouth but Castiel cuts in, "Don't you dare bring him into this!"

"I may do as I damn well please!" Naomi screams at Castiel, and then holds her finger to Dean's face, "You are not allowed to see my son, do you understand me?"

"I'm not letting you take him away from me," Castiel pushes Dean behind him, "I'm not!"

"You will! You _are_!"

" _NO_!" Castiel's yells. His screams are getting louder, and Dean can feel his shoulders begin to creep up to his ears to block the noise.

"You _ARE_!"

"But I _fucking_ _love_ him!"

Naomi freezes.

 _Dean_ freezes.

Castiel's mother dims down her voice to a harsh whisper. "You-you _what_?"

Dean can hear Castiel's quick breaths. "You heard me. I love him. I _fucking_ love him. So, I suggest you get the _hell_ out of my house before I alert the authorities."

His mother takes a step back and swallows, her eyelids twitchy against glassy and red eyes. She looks around for a second, and then stomps out the door, her heels clicking forcefully against the wood. Dean watches her red hair leave, and her ugly grey suit, and he watches the door slam so hard the pictures on the wall become askew. And neither of them start breathing again until they hear the wheels of the car speed off the dirt driveway.

And as Dean watches the headlights of the car disappear into blackness, he becomes sure of two things:

1\. Castiel Milton is in love with him.

2\. He is: _So. Fucking. Screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update soon! Let me know what you guys think!


	14. Destination: The Top of a Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set in Castiel's point of view.

It's incredibly strange to sit across from him. Sleeping next to him last night was even stranger.

Castiel didn't sleep last night. At  _all_. And if his senses were right, Dean hadn't slept much either.

_"But I fucking love him!"_

It's just that one line — that one  _single_ line — those  _five_ words — that are lodged into his head so hard it's beginning to drive him insane.

_I can't believe I said it out loud._

He actually really can't believe it. It's all been so surreal, and until the words flew so un-accordingly out of his mouth, he, himself had never realized how much truth were behind those words.

He  _loves_ him.

He really does. He doesn't know why it's taken him so long to realize it, but Castiel knows it. A part of him feels like he's known it ever since he'd met Dean — that  _this_ would be the guy he would fall so insanely for. But now that he's said it allowed, Castiel knows it's true, knows that he meant what he said last night. However, he doesn't know how  _Dean_ feels.

Dean had just stood there, skin as white as a ghost, and mouth gaped for so long he could've started to catch flies. Dean had barely said anything to him after that, helping Castiel clear the table and running straight upstairs to bed afterwards...without a  _word_.

Castiel can't blame him, though. It's a lot to take in, especially if you've only known the person for a little over a week. It's quite odd when Castiel thinks of that, actually, how they've only known each other for such a short time, and how he's  _one hundred percent_ positive that what he said last night was the truth.

He's terrified to confront Dean about it. What if he brings it up and Dean wants to leave? What if Dean gets angry at him? What if he tells Castiel that he was just a toy for Dean's amusement?

What if Dean doesn't  _love him back._

Castiel wants to ask him, but he knows damn well that he shouldn't ask questions he doesn't want to know the answer to. He knows what he said last night will need to be dealt with a some point. Castiel wants to get Dean to open up to him, to tell him things, to  _trust_ him. But not now. Not while they're sitting across from each other at the dining room table eating a very late breakfast.

Castiel slowly chews his scrambled eggs and flicks his eyes back and forth from Dean; who is completely silent and staring down at his plate.

"What would you like to do today?" Castiel asks, swallowing his food and trying to show off a half-ass smile, "There are some shops downtown, if you're interested."

Dean shrugs.

Castiel can feel the tension in his stomach building. "We could go hiking. Farther down the lake, there is a lovely trail in the forest that we could walk through."

Dean shrugs again.

Castiel grinds his teeth. Well if Dean is going to act like  _this_ , Castiel might as well just go upstairs and lock himself in the guest bedroom. He can't blame Dean for feeling awkward — but it  _doesn't_ have to be awkward if Dean doesn't  _make_ it awkward. But, Dean's failed at that.

Castiel decides to shut up and continue eating, although most of his appetite has vanished along with his motivation for trying. He toys around with a piece of sausage on his plate.

He can tell the next few hours are going to be torture.  _He_ can be civil,  _he_ can be talkative,  _he_ can be normal — but the question is, can  _Dean_? If only Castiel could get into his head, he'd find out exactly what Dean thinks about all this, because God knows that Dean's not going to tell Castiel on his own.

It's one thing that Castiel hopes he can work out; which is, having Dean succumb to him. He wants Dean to talk to him. To tell him whats bothering him. To let him  _help._ He knows that Dean says he isn't the 'talk-it-out-type', but if Dean doesn't trust Castiel enough to tell him when there's a problem, Castiel is doing something wrong.

And Castiel doesn't want to be doing anything wrong.

"I guess we can go hiking." Dean says suddenly, and Castiel's head shoots up from his plate.

Castiel nods apprehensively. "Okay."

* * *

"I feel like I'm walking through Hell."

"Not Hell," Castiel counters, pushing a branch out of his way, "Maybe Purgatory. Hell is described as a fiery, outer darkness with soulless beings. However, my mother used to tell me that Purgatory was where un-purified souls were sent, a place lacking in happiness, almost like walking through a forest for ever and ever, without ever finding a way out."

Dean scoffs. "You lost me at 'fiery, outer darkness', Cas."

Castiel laughs. "It is rather a beautiful day for a walk, though." He says, listening to faint cicadas in the distance and the rustle of leaves. Castiel steps over a hole _,_ depressions that you would tend to stumble in as you walk.

The dirt trail in front of him is thin, not enough for the two of them to walk side by side, so Castiel trails back and allows Dean to lead the way, although Dean has no idea where he's going. Castiel wants to walk next to him, but if he tried, he'd most likely end up falling over the small hill adjacent to them and tumble right down into the lake beneath.

Castiel's okay with walking behind Dean, though. Mainly so Castiel can stare at his ass; basketball shorts look good on him.

"It's sticky and humid. And I keep getting eaten alive," Dean says, swatting a mosquito on his arm and pushing away a spruce branch that slapped his chest, "And how much longer are we gonna' be walking up this hill? My calves are burning and I'm pretty sure these branches want to kill me."

"I told you to put on bug spray." Castiel snarls, "And just a little longer. Don't be so whiny." He says. Dean turns around and flashes him an annoyed glare before swatting another bug on his leg. Castiel can't help but smile at him.

Dean slows down so that he's only a few feet in front of Castiel. "Did you do this a lot as a kid?"

"Only when I needed to," Castiel answers back. Which is true, because he had only ever really come to the trail when he needed to get away from his family. Dean nods his head, seeming to understand what Castiel meant.

Castiel knows these trails like the back of his hand. He points to a tall patch of bushes a little farther up the trail that creates a sort of wall-like obstacle in between the trees. "Walk through that." Castiel says.

Dean stops and turns around again. "What the hell's on the other side?"

"An immediate drop-off. I want you to walk through so you will fall to your death." Castiel scowls sarcastically.

Dean huffs. "Only if you go first," He smirks back.

Castiel glares at him and pushes past him to start walking towards the wall of leaves and vines, where the late afternoon sunset had just begun to peak through the crevices of where the leaves separate. Castiel swipes his hand through and pushes the leaves aside, sliding through the wall and coming face to face with the view he thought he may never see again. Castiel stands there for a minute or two before he finally hears Dean begin to rustle through the vines.

Dean inhales. "Holy shit."

Castiel nods. "I know."

"The hill was worth it."

Castiel nods. From where they stand, they can see everything. Next to them the land stretches for miles, although about ten feet in front of them is the edge of the cliff, where they can see the tops of the pine trees trying to get a glimpse over their side of the hill. Along its length, cottonwoods had sprung up; young trees a little more than twice a man's height. Lying in front, is the lake, wide stretched far out on either side of them and painted pink and orange by the sun. And just beyond the lake, is the familiar wooden cabin with a big backyard and the greenest grass to ever grow out of the earth.

Dean stares for a little longer before walking forward and sitting down on the edge of the hill-like cliff, swinging his legs to dangle over the sides. He looks over his shoulder and motions for Castiel to join him.

"Dean, that's dangerous." Castiel remarks.

Dean rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Cas. I think you know me well enough to know that I  _live_ for the danger."

Castiel can't argue with that. It's a tad nerve-racking when Castiel peers his eyes over the edge of the cliff; below them is a solid one hundred foot drop into the rocky abyss of the lake underneath. But somehow, it's alright. If they were to fall, Castiel just somehow wouldn't mind.

Castiel cautiously sits down next to Dean and sways his legs over the edge. Dean shifts closer to him.

"It really is a view, Cas."

Castiel looks to him, his lips curling to the sides as he watches the man next to him fall into a soft euphoria. His speckled green eyes seem to laugh even though he, himself, isn't. "Yeah," Castiel agrees, although not even looking at the view in front of him, "It is."

_Ask him about it._

_No, no — never mind._

Castiel reverts his attention to the lake, contemplating whether now is a good time to bring up  _last night._ He's so scared to ask, he can even feel the tips of his fingers begin to shake at the thought. Castiel feels the anxiety start to grow and tries to brush off the feeling by bringing up something else.

"Have you spoken to Sam?"

"Kinda'," Dean shrugs, "I've texted him and told him why we left that night. He said he understood. He's smart enough to know that  _I'm_ smart enough to be careful. And anyways, he's got other things to worry about, like listen to Ruby talk about honeymooning spots for the next week."

"I like Ruby." Castiel says with a nod, "Sometimes she reminds me of Gabriel. He would love her."

Dean grunts a laugh, "If only she had met Gabriel before she met Sam."

Castiel looks to Dean knowingly. "I think you like her, too. You just don't  _believe_  you like her."

"And why's that?" Dean asks.

"Because you wouldn't have let Sam marry her if you didn't."

Dean exhales a sharp laugh but doesn't respond. They stare at the lake and the horizon for a while, listening to the sharp sting of cicadas and crickets behind them. The sun begins to drone over the tips of the trees. Castiel wants to grab Dean's hand, but is scared of what he might do. Castiel doesn't want him to pull his hand away.

"Have you talked to Gabriel? Or Anna?" Dean speaks up.

Castiel tenses a little. "Unfortunately, no. I would assume Gabe knows that I _—we_ _—_ are here, however. There's no place else we could have gone, and if Gabe's as smart as I hope he is, he would know. Anna, however, is probably a worried mess."

Dean smirks. "You should call them, Cas. Just to tell them you're safe."

Castiel responds quickly, "They know I'm safe." He says, bouncing his dangling feet. His exposed calves beneath his black basketball shorts rub harshly against the dirt. He does know he's safe. He knows he's safe here with Dean, and he also knows that his siblings, excluding Michael, know that Dean will keep him safe.

He watches Dean itch a bug-bite.

"Fuckin' mosquitoes. I've turned into an all-you-can-eat buffet." Dean whines.

"Here," Castiel slings the backpack off his shoulders, "I brought bug-spray." He says, digging his hand down the large backpack.

"Dude, I'm not putting that shit on me." Dean shakes his head and places a delicate hand on his chest, "It'll get rid of my  _natural musk_."

Castiel shoots his eyebrows up. "Oh please." He laughs, and Dean grins back. Castiel suddenly feels the whole inside of his bag vibrating.

Dean looks up at him, confused. "What is that?"

Castiel rummages through the contents of the backpack. "It's my cell phone," Castiel says, finally able to grab his phone. He reads the caller ID:  _private number._ He stands and brushes the dirt off him, "It's probably just work. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Dean gives him a sarcastic glare. "If I'm gone just assume I fell off."

Castiel rolls his eyes and makes his way through the wall of leaves again, walking a little further up the trail and flipping his phone to his ear.

"Castiel Milton." He says, deeper than usual. There's a long pause. "Hello?" Castiel asks again.

There's a sharp inhale on the other line.

_"Castiel."_

Castiel gasps. " _Mother_?!"

_"Please, don't hang up."_

Castiel feels the tension in his muscles begin to stir. This woman had  _nerve._ "Why shouldn't I?"

_"Just give me a minute of your time."_

Castiel doesn't want to give her a minute of his time. Because it's a fucking  _waste_ of a good sixty seconds. "Fine." Castiel agrees.

 _"Castiel, there's_ _— there's something wrong with him_ _—"_

Castiel huffs. "Mother, stop." He says calmly. He's breathing as slowly as his body will allow him to.

 _"I could see it as soon as I walked into that house. There's something that boy's not telling you, Castiel. There's something wrong about him."_  Naomi says firmly, without any hesitation or stutter to her thick tone. Castiel knows she's being serious.

Castiel inhales and exhales. "Mother, I'm going to try not to yell, but there is nothing wrong with him. He protects me. He keeps me safe, and I trust him."

 _"I don't. He's bad news, Castiel. He's another repeat of_ Balthazar _."_

Castiel's whole body tenses.

"How dare you bring that up, Mother!" Castiel raises his voice, but only a little, trying to avoid from screaming too loud for Dean to hear, "He is  _nothing_ like Balthazar!"

_"You know what happened! You sinned with him and then God punished you for it. It's just going to happen all over again, Castiel. Don't you see that?"_

"I can't believe I let you waste my time like this. Goodbye, Mother. And don't think about calling again." Castiel slams the button on his screen and shoves the phone in his pocket. He's trying to be calm, he really is, but the pulse in his ears is so loud that all he wants to do is scream.

_How dare she._

"How  _fucking_ dare she," Castiel grits through closed teeth. He kicks a rock across the dirt trail and tries to collect himself. She brought up something that Castiel had never wanted to think or hear about ever again in his life; she knows what  _he_ had done to him, she knows what had happened and how much it hurt.

Castiel shakes his head. "Dean is not like that," He whispers to himself quietly, staring at the wall of leaves, "He's not."

Dean's been there for him. Dean's done everything he possibly can to make Castiel feel safe, and  _loved_. Not loved in the sense he would  _like_ it to be, but nevertheless,  _loved._ Shaking off the thought as best he can, Castiel exhales and begins walking back towards the wall of leaves.

It's a little bit darker now in the shade of the forest, mounts and drapes of branches striving to be a canopy above his head, blocking out the sky so Castiel can only see thin slivers of a darkened pink color. As soon as his hands slide through the wall of leaves, more color begins to crawl it's way through until he's assailed with orange and pink rays. Dean is still sitting, swinging his legs off the edge. He turns around once Castiel wriggles through.

"Hey." Dean smiles.

Castiel's stomach swirls. It really is quite funny to him that all Dean has to say is ' _Hey_ ' for Castiel to melt into a heated mess, "Did you miss me?" Castiel responds, plopping back down next to Dean.

Dean gives him a nudge. "Like a pie without the apple filling."

Castiel smiles warmly. He loves him. He really does. He doesn't respond, and neither of them talk for a while, leaving the crickets to take over the silence. And surprisingly, it's not awkward. It's not strange, it's not uncomfortable. It's totally and completely, all right. Castiel slowly feels the conversation with his mother fading and fading away out of his mind. They watch the sun set farther down into the Earth, swinging their legs over the edge and kicking each other playfully. Castiel wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

As the sun set even more, the bugs began to scatter and fly away, and the pink and orange of the sky began to darken, and darken, until only a curve of color is left. Castiel feels a shiver.

"Are you cold?" Castiel asks, opening his bag and removing a thick, large, plaid red and black flannel blanket. "I have a blanket."

"No, but _—_ " Dean says, reaching for the blanket anyways. He stands with it and walks a few feet away from the cliff, waving it in the air and spreading it out on the ground, " _—_ but I think we should sleep here tonight."

Castiel tilts his head, "What?"

"It's warm enough. Bugs went somewhere else." Dean shrugs, "Why the hell not?"

Castiel shakes his head with a smile but agrees, crawling to the blanket and sitting cross legged on top of it. Dean lays on his back with a sigh.

"How are you, Cas?" Dean asks deeply, his eyes seeming to really concentrate on Castiel.

Castiel looks down at him. "I'm fine. Why?"

Dean huffs a laugh, "In all my thirty years, I swear, Cas, I've never seen someone as bad of a liar as you."

Castiel blushes and shakes his head, lying down on his back next to Dean and looking up at the darkened sky. He can just begin to see the stars peek out. Dean's right, though, he is an awful liar, but Castiel doesn't want to tell him. He doesn't want to tell him about the conversation with his mother. He doesn't want to tell him  _any_ of it. However, Castiel does have something on his mind that's been there for awhile. Something he's been avoiding, trying to push it in the back of his mind hoping maybe the thought would give up; but it doesn't.

So he asks.

"May I ask you something, Dean?"

"Alright, hit me."

Castiel feels jolts of shivers run across his arms. "Why me?"

Dean turns his head and furrows his eyebrows at him. "What?"

"Why me, Dean? Why are you here?"

Dean turns his head away and looks up at the sky. His lips part to speak, and he pauses for a few moments causing Castiel's chills to worsen. "Because I want to be," He says finally.

Castiel shakes his head. "I'm not good, Dean. I'm not worth it _—_ "

"Hey!" Dean raises his voice, "Don't you say that. Ever."

Castiel quiets down. "I was only speaking my mind." He says; which is true.

At some point,  _everyone_ thinks they're worthless. And it's a thin line that has to be walked across to eventually know that you are  _worthy_. Such a thin line, a tightrope, one side of it makes you stronger, the other side kills you. It's a long journey there, not an easy one, and Castiel just so happens to feel like he's too afraid to even touch the rope at all, and he's just waiting on one side of a tall, tall building,  _waiting_ to build up the courage to take the first step onto the rope.

"I've made mistakes too, Cas. Awful ones," Dean inhales sharply and shakes his head, "I know what it feels like to look in a mirror and hate what you see. But just because you think you're worthless, doesn't mean it's true."

Castiel sighs. "Dean _—_ "

Dean cuts him off. "Yeah, yeah, I know _—_ why listen to me, right? But let me tell you somethin', Cas. Fucking up is something we all do. Sometimes, we're the ones that end up getting fucked over. There's really nothing that we as humans can do about it, and that sucks. It fucking  _sucks_. But, once you realize your past is just a story, it has no power over you."

Castiel clenches his teeth.

_He's right. Goddammit he's right._

He looks to Dean, still staring up at the stars, a little more still and blank than usual. Castiel then realizes something he never had even thought of before: Dean's been screwed over. He's been screwed over just like Castiel has.

Castiel shuts his eyes.

"He left me at the altar."

Dean turns sharply to Castiel. "What?"

"He waited until our wedding day to tell me he cheated on me and was in love with someone else." Castiel responds, and now it's his turn to stare blankly up at the now visible stars. He focuses in one one in particular and concentrates hard on it, "His name was Balthazar. I remember standing up there like a fool as he told me, confessed in front of everyone and ran off with some guy he met online." Castiel says, letting all the air out in his lungs slowly.

"I was afraid to love again." Castiel adds, "I was so scared."

Dean looks to him and squints his eyes, "Is that why you ran away in the elevator that one time?"

Castiel laughs embarrassingly. "I knew I was getting too close to you. I didn't want to get hurt, but _—_ "

_I wanted it._

Castiel can remember that night in the broken down elevator like it was just yesterday. How he was so scared, so nervous when Dean started inching towards him. He had wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to touch him; but he had been too afraid. Too afraid to fall in love again and lose someone he had already begun to care so much about. He had been scared to take the chance, but he did it. 

And he's happy with the chance he took.

Dean doesn't say anything for a while. And that's okay. Castiel's okay with just listening to the crickets. He's okay with trying to count the stars. It was hard, admitting that to Dean, admitting his greatest mistake, his greatest flaw; loving someone who would eventually screw him over. It was hard, but somehow Castiel feels okay to tell him. He knows he won't be judged.

Dean clears his throat.

"My fiancé slept with my best friend."

Castiel tilts his head ever so slightly to Dean.

"Walked right in on it. Not the first time it happened, too." Dean laughs and turns to Castiel, "Would you believe, five years of a relationship, gone to shit. Apparently they'd been in the sheets for years before that. I mean, so had me and her, but Benny didn't know. Eventually Lisa'd gotten pregnant, which is really what made me go into the relationship in the first place." Dean laughs again and wiggles a little closer to Castiel.

Castiel grabs his hand.

"I thought the kid was mine. I thought he was my son, Cas." Dean tightens his fingers in Castiel's, "But he was Benny's. He was my  _best friends_ son. Should've known  _— God,_ I should've known. The kid's name is  _Ben_ for Christ sake, I mean Jesus, how could I be so stupid?"

"You weren't being stupid Dean." Castiel says quietly.

Dean shakes his head. "I stayed with her," He says, looking to Castiel with more shame on his face than he'd ever seen on a man, "I stayed with her because I didn't think I deserved anyone better."

Castiel can feel his chest hollow. He wants to do something, he wants to make it better, but he  _can't_.

"Dean _—_ "

"It's okay, Cas." Dean lolls his head completely in Castiel's direction so they're only inches away. "I've found someone better."

Castiel smiles widely. Dean had just given him the push that he needed to step onto the rope.

"Guess we've both been pretty screwed over, huh?" Dean says again with a grin.

Castiel has to agree. "Lover and parents alike."

Dean turns at the sky again, his smile slowly fading. "It's just my Dad."

Castiel feels every muscle in his body tighten. "Oh, oh my _—_ I'm so sorry Dean I _—_ "

"It's okay," Dean smiles, but Castiel can see right through the fake curves of his lips, "I was young. It was a house fire."

Castiel feels awful. If only he had known. And suddenly he wants nothing more than to hold on to Dean and never let him go. "It wasn't your fault, Dean. There was nothing you could have _—_ "

"I left the stove on."

Castiel freezes.

He can't say anything. No matter how much he wants to open his lips and tell Dean he's sorry over and over again until his ears bleed, no matter how bad he wants to cry, no matter how much he wants to squeeze his hand tighter; he can't. He's frozen.  _If only he had known._

"I don't remember much of her," Dean continues, "But I remember she was beautiful. And she would always sing 'Hey Jude' to me when I went to bed, and she'd make me soup when I was sick. I remember she was the best mom someone could hope for."

Castiel can feel the heat begin to rise to his cheeks. He doesn't even remember when his eyes started to water. He's never seen this side of Dean. He's never known how truly broken he is. But every word that comes out of Dean's mouth, no matter how shattered it may be, just makes Castiel love him even more. He's never thought he deserved someone as special as Dean, but  _goddammit_ , he  _wants_ this.

Dean untangles his hand and swings his arm to the other side of Castiel's shoulder, pulling him tightly into his side. Castiel accepts the warmth, cherishes it, curling up against Dean's side. Dean rubs his arm.

"She would love you, Cas." Dean says, kissing the top of his head, "Mary would really love you."

Castiel's head perks up. "What an odd coincidence," Castiel smiles, "Mary is the name of the lake. Mary's Lake."

Dean laughs. "Hell of a coincidence."

Castiel nestles back into the warmth again, kissing the bare skin of Dean's neck.

"Coincidence is just God's way of being anonymous."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact guys – there is actually a lake in Lawrence, Kansas called Mary's Lake. 
> 
> Weird right?
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as it was one of my favorites to write. More to come next week. Let me know how you are liking it!
> 
> Happy Valentines Day to all of you beautiful little fuckers. I love you all. 
> 
> xoxo ~ Alexis


	15. Destination: Uncharted Territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever. I think this chapter was the most difficult to write. This chapter has a lot of hidden meanings. I advice you guys to read carefully. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy :)

_Ow._

Dean cracks his back.

_Yup, ow._

Even now, as he's laying on a cushioned couch instead of a rocky, dirt surface, his body still feels stiff; he has a vague aching, like he just got beaten up. But, it had still been worth it. And Dean would do it all over again tonight if he had the chance. Hell, he'd do it  _every_ night if he had the chance.

Castiel is just something special. Just having Castiel wrapped up in his arms every night is something special on it's own, but Dean feels so incredibly lucky. He feels luckier than he thinks he deserves to be, but nevertheless, lucky. He feels at ease when he's looking at him, calm; like he's just laying on the beach with the sand between his toes, and the steady, constant flow of the ocean. Dean just allows himself to  _be himself_  when he's with Castiel, and he's grateful for that. He's grateful for how comfortable Castiel makes him feel.

But Dean just doesn't know if he's ready for love.

He starts to bite the skin around his nails as he reaches in his pocket for his phone and dials the only person he feels like talking to at the moment. It rings a few times, and then the voice picks up.

" _Hey."_

"Heya', Sammy."

" _What's going on? You okay?"_

_No, not really._

"Yeah, I'm cool. What's up with you? Has the bathroom been overridden with tampons and hair dryers yet?"

Sam huffs on the other line, " _Yeah, it's starting."_

"I warned you." Dean jokes.

 _"By the way, what's the deal with Gabe?"_ Sam asks, a slight nervous hesitation to his tone.

Dean shakes his head, "He's just a barrel o' laughs, isn't he? For a short guy, he's sure got a big ego."

 _"He got my number,"_ Sam clears his throat,  _"Did you give it to him?"_

"No." Dean says, almost wishing he had.

 _"Well...he won't leave me alone."_ Sam groans and Dean laughs,  _"It isn't funny, Dean. I'm married."_

"Oh, so if you weren't married would that be a different story?"

Sam goes silent.

_Oh my god._

"Sammy, are you—"

_"Shut up, Dean! Even if I am into him a little, I would never leave Ruby. Let's just drop it from here, okay?"_

Dean's mouth gapes. He drops it, although he doesn't want to.

" _What about Cas?"_ Sam asks quickly. Dean was half expecting to hear that, but even though he had been expecting it, he hadn't come up with an answer to say when the question would be given.

Dean pauses. "Cas is good. He's on a run right now," Dean shakes his head, "Damn you guys and your health habits. Jogging is the worst, Sam. I mean, I know it keeps you healthy, but God, at what cost?"

" _Is that your way of avoiding the truth?"_

_Dammit Sammy._

Dean stiffens his shoulders against the couch. His brother knows him all too well. Sam knows something's up, so Dean figures he might as well just tell him.

"He loves me, Sammy." Dean grinds his teeth, "Cas loves me. And I have no friggin' clue what the hell to do."

" _Well how do_ you  _feel?"_

"But that's the thing!" Dean sits up on the couch, "I don't even know what I feel. I didn't even know I  _could_ feel."

" _So, you_ do _feel_ something _?"_ Sam points out.

Dean bites his cheek as he shakes his head.

Dean feels something enough to take him to Disneyland. Dean feels something enough to take him to his brother's wedding and walk him down the aisle. Dean feels something enough for him to leave California with a guy he only just met a week ago. Dean feels something enough to have sex with him. Dean feels something enough that he will sit in awkward family dinners with his psycho mom. Dean feels something enough to sleep on the edge of a rocky cliff with him.

Dean feels something enough for Castiel to be the only person Dean feels like he really  _wants_.

"I don't know, Sam."

" _Wanna' know what I think?"_

"Do I, though?"

" _I think that you've convinced yourself that you don't have any feelings at all – so you've basically just trapped yourself inside this little bubble that you won't let anyone pop because you're too scared to lose the protection."_ Sam pauses like he's stopping himself from going on a rant, but decides to continue anyways, " _And I do think you feel something for Castiel. I saw it the second you two were together. Just pop the bubble, Dean. Pop the_ damn  _bubble."_

Dean can feel his stomach twist.

What does he even  _say to that_.

Dean can think of exactly what he wants to say. He doesn't even have to think too long either, it just comes to him as quick as blinking: Sam is right. And Dean knows that. Dean knows that he  _does_ feel something, but he's prevented himself from trying to feel anything by putting himself behind lock and key. He's just been denying it, over and over and over.

 _That's_ what he wants to say.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean swallows down sharp regret, "I gotta' go."

" _Wait, Dean —"_ Sam croaks, his voice deepening a little.

"Yeah?"

" _Look, I was gonna' call you about it later today, but, since you called…"_ Sam hesitates and Dean can feel his heart begin to race, " _...Lisa's here. She flew in last night and came to me and Ruby. She asked where you were and what was going on."_

Dean tries to suck in air but it's a little hard to do that when you feel like your lungs have just gone M.I.A. He stutters his voice, but nothing really comes out except broken letters.

" _I told her you ran off,"_ Sam continues, " _I tried my best. I know she went to your hotel to find out information if she could but...that's all I know."_

Dean drags his hand down his face, "Well, that's just peachy." He spits sarcastically.

" _I'm sorry, Dean, I—"_

"It's fine, Sam. I'll figure it out," Dean shrugs, knowing perfectly well that he  _won't_ figure it out, "You get back to cleaning off your bathroom sink of feminine products and dealing with the sassy gay trickster," Dean jokes, trying to lure Sam away from the situation at hand.

" _Yeah, alright."_ Sam agrees, although Dean knows Sam's not buying it, " _Bye, Dean."_

"Later, Sammy."

Dean slams his phone shut and rolls his lips together.  _What does he do now._ Does he tell Castiel? Or does he  _not_  tell Castiel?

 _But she wouldn't know how to find the house…_ Dean thinks, scratching the back of his hair...  _unless she implanted a tracking device in my head...?_

_Nah._

There's no way Lisa could find the house. They paid with cash when they stopped at the gas stations on the way here, so there's no credit card trail. He hadn't told anyone else where he was going except for Sam; but even Sam doesn't know the exact location of the house.

There is  _no way._

So, he decides to not tell Castiel.

And he decides to take a nap instead.

* * *

_He wakes up on a really hard surface. He has no idea where he is, but it's dark, and it's freezing; so cold he can see his breath vaguely through blurred vision._

_He stands and burrows bare feet into dirt and rock as his eyes process the silhouettes around him._

_He's standing on the cliff in front of the lake, bare feet, no shirt — just basketball shorts._

_He wants to open his mouth and yell for help, but for some reason, he knows no one will hear him. So he starts to walk. His feet are numb, almost frozen solid from cold, and the tips of his fingertips burn painfully._

_Everything is black. The sky, the water, the trees, but in the very distance he can see the house on the other side of the lake, a single light at the top corner flickering slightly._

_He knows that's where he needs to go._

_He slides his hand through the wall of leaves, gliding the rest of his body through, but there's bushes and branches closing against him, and he can't see the way out. He pushes through and swats away everything tightening against him, but it just seems to be getting tighter, and tighter. He can't breathe._

_Why can't he scream?_

_It's getting tighter. The branches are stabbing him, cutting him; he can feel his blood pulsing through his head. His legs fail to work and he ducks down, crowding his head around his knees and wrapping his arms tight around his legs._

_It hurts. He can't breathe. He can't feel his feet, or his hands, or his face. He's entirely numb. He tucks his head in tighter, wraps his arms around his legs more, buries his toes into the dirt farther._

_Go away. He wants it to go away._

_And suddenly, it does._

_And he's not in the forest anymore, he's sitting outside the house. The big, wooden cabin with the single light in the top corner. He's sitting quietly and tentatively on the grass. He allows his legs to let him rise._

_He's walking — why is he walking? He doesn't want to walk towards the house, but he is. It's still cold, and the moment he steps in the house, it's even colder._

_It's completely silent. Not a sound but the echo of air._

_Why is it so quiet?_

_Why can't he run away?_

_He wants to turn around and go someplace else, anywhere else, but he knows he_ needs  _to go upstairs. He knows he_ needs  _to be here. He knows he needs to keep walking._

_He walks farther into the darkened house, past the kitchen and the couch and to the stairs._

_A man is sitting on the stairs. The man is crying._

_As soon as he reaches the foot of the stairs, the man lifts his head up._

_It's Sam._

_Sam uncoils from his tucked knees, his mouth flattening out completely, like he is trying to hide the evidence of sadness. Sam stands tall in front of him, face blank and mutated, and he raises his arm slowly, a lone finger reaching out from his hand and leading up the stairs._

_Sam doesn't say a word, and somehow, he knows that Sam wouldn't answer him if he asked._

_So, with numbed feet he takes a step onto the first stair, ignoring the needles he feels every time his skin touches the ground. He follows Sam's pointed finger up the stairs and to the long hallway; where the very last room at the end of the hall has it's light on._

_He doesn't want to go._

_Why can't he stop walking?_

_With every step he can feel the air getting colder, but the blood pumping so hard in his veins begins to make him sweat. He's scared. Why is he scared?_

_He hears noise, now._

_He tilts his head, pausing his movements to listen to the almost deaf whisper._

_He doesn't know what the noise is, so he walks closer. He wants to stop but he can't seem to; he knows he can't turn back._

_The noise gets louder._

_It's voices. Groaning voices._

_And only when he is standing inches from the door does he realize what the noise_ truly  _is; the squeaking of the bed, the harsh undertoned breaths and ragged words._

_And only when he peeks over the side of the door does he realize who the voices belong to._

_It's Benny and Castiel._

_Benny, who has stripped Castiel down of every article of clothing and now has the naked man pinned down with his stomach against the bed; while he thrusts into him with softened force._

_Castiel, who lays so still against the mattress, smiling and whispering out sweet nothing's like he is enjoying every inch of pleasure that Benny gives him; his hands coiled tightly in the sheets of the bed._

_Benny and Castiel both turn to look at him at the same time, eyebrows lowering malevolently, grins invading their faces like wildfire — mocking him. They're laughing at him._

_And the walls begin to close. He can't breathe. It's too cold to move, and he begins to twist his body together, shrinking down and tucking his face back into his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs and tightening his strength. The laughing gets louder, and louder, and louder._

_Why can't he scream?_

* * *

"Dean! Dean! Wake up!"

He wakes up with a massive gasp for air.

He screams.

"Dean! Calm down!"

He can't calm down. He can feel every vein in his body pulse against his skin. Castiel wraps warm hands around the sides of his arms. It's dark outside now. How long had he been asleep?

"Dean, please, take a breath," Castiel alarmingly says, "It was only a nightmare."

Dean halters, "But — you, and...and...Benny...and—" He swallows the rest of his words down. The back of his throat feels like it's on fire; along with the rest of his body, as he's dressed from head to toe in a damp sweat.

Castiel's eyes wander Dean's face and try to make sense of what he's saying, but he ends up watching Dean choke on his own words.

Castiel lets go of Dean's arms and takes a step away from the bed, "I'll go get you some water —"

"No!" Dean yells suddenly, reaching out and gripping Castiel's arm tightly. He swallows, "Please stay."

_Hold me._

_Don't say it aloud. You're too afraid._

Castiel softens. "Okay."

Castiel sits down on the bed beside him, watching Dean intently with brightened eyes. It makes Dean feel  _that_ much more calm. Dean reaches his arms out, and soon the both of them are wrapped so tightly in the other's arms that it would be a shame to let go.

Dean tassels his fingers into Castiel's hair, burying his face into the side of Castiel's neck. He allows long fingers to trace shapes along his back, allows his uneven breath to return to normal, allows himself to  _relax_.

"It's okay, Dean." Castiel reassures him gently, "I'm here."

"Just stay," Dean says deeply, "I need you."

Dean holds on to him so tightly he thinks he might be suffocating the man, but he just can't seem to stop. The way Castiel smells, like cinnamon; like what you would smell when you woke up on Christmas morning. Dean closes his eyes.

It had been so vivid; seeing Castiel and Benny like that. And it makes him sick to his very core. He felt so  _alone_. It hadn't been  _just_ a nightmare, it was, in fact, his  _worst_ nightmare. Dean can still feels his arms shaking slightly. Castiel rubs his back tenderly.

_He's here. He's mine._

_He's **mine.**_

Dean wonders why that dream had even crossed his mind. To him, the thought of that happening had never occurred, but now he knows it's going to be in the back of his mind; and he doesn't think it'll ever go away.

"Are you okay?" Castiel whispers, still holding on to him. The deep tone of his voice is calming.

"Yeah," Dean breathes, although not entirely sure he is telling the truth. He had never realized how bad it would hurt to  _lose_ Castiel; or at least, have the feeling of what it would be  _like_ to lose him. Never before has Dean felt  _anything_ like that before. He doesn't want it to ever happen again. He wants Castiel. Dean wants all of Castiel; and all of what comes with him.

"I want you." Dean says suddenly, finally gaining the courage to let him go and look at his eyes. Castiel looks disquieted, head tilting in question.

"You have me." Castiel nods.

"No," Dean shakes his head. His hand trails up Castiel's arm and circles around the side of his neck, "I mean I  _want_  you."

_I want you to have sex with me. I want you inside me._

Why is that so hard to say? Dean wants it, he can think it, but he can't seem to say it aloud. However, Castiel seems to understand.

Castiel just nods, letting himself lean into him, letting himself gently touch his lips to Dean's. Dean consents Castiel's body to melt against his. His skin is still damp, but Castiel doesn't seem to mind, letting soft fingertips run across Dean's skin. Castiel's lips open up to him, allowing their tongues to swirl around each other, sucking faintly on each others lips.

Castiel repositions himself, walking on his knees to the middle of the bed whilst never breaking contact with Dean's lips. Dean can feel his heart begin to beat a little faster. He's nervous, probably the most he's ever been, but he knows it's okay. He trusts Castiel. There's the sudden feeling of hands crawling up his back, entwining hands into his damp hair and tugging lightly.

Dean slides his hands up from Castiel's hips and rides his shirt up and Castiel obliges, letting the shirt be thrown across the room. The shirt only separates their mouths for a split second. Their kisses are gentler, more controlled and relaxed, like all the time in the world belongs to them. The way Castiel bites his lip isn't how it had been; it's delicate, and passionate, only like a small tug.

Castiel glides down to Dean's neck, desperately kissing across sensitive skin, nibbling across his broad chest. It's so slow but full of  _hunger_ and  _desire_ , like Castiel is eager to suffice his need for Dean. Dean hisses through closed teeth when Castiel grazes a nipple, taking it lightly between his teeth and letting his tongue twist around tender skin.

Dean takes a quick glance at Castiel, his lips so faultlessly caressing him, pink and swollen lips so concentrated on nobody else but  _him._ Castiel nibbles his way back up, sucking gentle purple marks into Dean's skin until his lips find his again, impatient to have their tongues against the other. Castiel's hips press into Dean's and Dean can feel the hardness from the other man pressing into his own. Dean knows he'll never get sick of that feeling.

Dean's cock is aching desperately, and he can't seem to stop grinding his hips up, spreading them and urging Castiel to provide friction. By the way their bodies are so close, Dean's sure that Castiel can feel his heart threatening to break through his skin. Castiel kisses him bruisingly, allowing the smallest of marks to make their way into Dean's skin.

Castiel is back at Dean's chest now, gliding his hands down until they rest gently on his hips. Dean hisses through closed teeth, arching his back up into Castiel's tongue. Castiel's hands begin to slide the rest of Dean's clothes off, pulling them down to his ankles and allowing his mouth to follow the fabric, kissing his thighs and legs as he goes down. Dean leans his head back against the pillow, not watching, but  _feeling_ Castiel touch him,  _feeling_ Castiel kiss him.

Castiel kisses and sucks onto his inner thighs,  _totally_ ignoring Dean's cock completely and just moving back to his abdomen. And somehow, that's totally alright with Dean. Pressure slides between Dean's open lips, and a hooked tongue tangles back into his. Dean's hands find Castiel's hips and he ruts Castiel's cock down against his stomach, where he can feel damp pre-cum touching his skin.

Dean feels Castiel's arm move subtly to the bedside table. Dean releases from him and watches Castiel fumble for a bottle of lube and a condom.

"Wait," Dean swallows, "I've never done this before." He says quietly. He can feel his face begin to flush as soon as the words come out.

Castiel's lips gape.

"You've never — "

"No," Dean answers him quickly, as if afraid to hear what Castiel was going to say, "No." He repeats with slight embarrassment. Dean stays as stock-still as a hunter waiting out his prey, but he can see anticipation in every line of Castiel's body.

Castiel doesn't say anything, instead placing the condom back onto the dresser and taking the lube only to coat his index finger. The action, for some reason, scares Dean almost to death. Why is he so  _terrified_? Dean closes his eyes and lets out a constricted breath. He can't see Castiel, but he can hear him and feel the heat from his skin as he comes close to Dean's face.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Castiel breathes, the low tone of his voice a soft echo. Dean nods, his eyes still remaining shut.

Dean grabs a handful of the bed sheet, trying his best to relax when he feels the slick, cool skin of Castiel's finger brush against his entrance. Dean clenches his teeth down and slowly opens his eyes, only to be greeted with the view of looking at the sun underwater.

And the fear is gone. Heat swarms Dean's senses, his skin, his blood, his mind. He can't even remember why he had been afraid in the first place. Because it's  _Castiel._ It's the guy that has Dean so tightly in the palm of his hand; that he could  _do_ anything that he wanted to him,  _say_ anything that he wanted to him, and Dean wouldn't go anywhere. Dean needs him.

Castiel tilts his head, "Are you okay, Dean?"

And as soon as Castiel says that, Dean snaps out of whatever world he was in moments ago, and now he can feel something a little tight and uncomfortable. It's not what Dean had expected. It doesn't  _feel_ like he had expected. Castiel is moving so gently inside him, taking his time to make sure Dean is comfortable. It doesn't hurt. Dean nods, urging Castiel to continue moving.

The feeling of a single finger starts to slide in him easier, starts to feel better, and Dean begins to meet down on Castiel's finger with each small thrust.

And then there's the second finger.

And it burns.

Dean hisses when it sinks in, tightening muscles against Castiel's fingers. Castiel leans his forehead on Dean's.

"Dean, you have to relax. It will be much easier if you trust me."

Dean swallows and lets his body melt, easing Castiel's fingers in much deeper. Castiel kisses him gently, and Dean moans delicately into his mouth. Dean wraps his legs around the back of Castiel's, trying to push him as close as he can get. Castiel goes very slow, so slow that Dean can feel every movement that Castiel makes with his fingers, like when he curls them ever so slightly upward, or when he makes small circles. Dean feels himself begin to sweat; it's getting a lot hotter in the room.

It still burns, but it gets more tolerable for Dean. "You can go faster," Dean says with harsh undertone.

Castiel picks up speed, and Dean can't stop staring at him. Dean has seen him like this before, with swollen, parted pink lips, flushed cheeks, damp sheet across his forehead and eyes shut gently; but he is so utterly perfect in that moment it's almost painful. Dean hooks uneasy hands around the back of Castiel's neck and presses open lips to his.

Third finger.

Dean bites Castiel's lip too hard by accident and Dean can suddenly taste metallic iron.

Castiel leans back and swipes a drop of blood from his lip with his tongue, "Relax," Castiel reminds him. Dean swallows and nods but he doesn't exactly  _agree_.

It's still painful and uncomfortably tight, but Dean can't seem to stop meeting Castiel's thrusts with his hips. Castiel is breathing delicately and softly into Dean's ear, sometimes the slightest moan escapes, and it just makes it so much easier for Dean to relax to know that Castiel is enjoying it. Castiel nuzzles heated breath into his neck; tender kisses around his collar bone and chest, nipping around Dean's tattoo.

Dean's starting to enjoy it. It's starting to feel  _good._

"Cas..." Dean hisses, " _Fuck_."

Castiel squirms a little, seeming to press his body closer to Dean's. Castiel picks up speed. It's so much easier now, to relax and trust the man on top of him; to realize he can provide more than the meaningless hook up. Dean arches his back up into Castiel's chest, and he can see the muscles in Castiel's arm strain as he continues to move in and out of Dean, picking up speed every few seconds.

Dean starts to  _roughly_  but almost  _gently_ , intertwine fingers into the back of Castiel's head. He's getting  _deeper_ , much  _deeper_. The base of Castiel's slick fingers are urging to go past the limit, overreaching and extending past their maximum potential, until —

Dean gasps.

Castiel smiles, "That's your prostate."

Dean swallows, "That felt good." He says, as if he had no idea that it  _could_ feel good. The second Castiel's fingers had gotten that deep, it was like Dean's spine stood straight and he could feel every nerve of his body come to attention. He wants more.

Castiel keeps pushing his fingers into him, as well as his hips inadvertently thrusting against Dean's side, and his shuddering breath sweeping against Dean's neck. It's becoming easier for Castiel to reach his prostate now that the burning sensation is gone, and every few pushes inside him Castiel reaches for it, sending jolts of pleasure down Dean's skin. Dean digs his nails into Castiel's back and groans.

Dean's finding that his legs now have a mind of their own, and they're spreading farther and farther apart, making Castiel's long and tender fingers glide slickly out of Dean's ass. And then Dean starts to feel the familiar ache in the bottom of his stomach.

"Cas,  _Jesus_ , right there..." Dean can't help but thrash his hands around Castiel's back, "I think I'm gonna' come,"

Castiel makes an effort to push his fingers in faster, " _Dean_ ," Castiel says, parting his mouth like he has more to say but can only comprise Dean's name.

Castiel's fingers start to hit Dean's prostate with every thrust until Dean turns into a complete hot  _mess_ ; squirming so much that Castiel has to hold him down underneath his arm to contain him. Dean's  _never_ experienced  _this_ type of feeling before, the kind that actually makes your toes curl, the kind that makes you feel like every muscle in your body is tightening around your bones.

Dean screams Castiel's name, sinking nails deep into the skin of his back and pressing the mans head into the crease of his neck as Dean comes completely undone underneath Castiel. Dean can feel Castiel's urgency, his heat against his own skin. His lungs start omitting air, and soon Dean's begging for it, gasping and sucking in oxygen like he's been underwater for several minutes.

He just  _came._ And Castiel didn't even have to  _touch_ Dean's cock.

And...why did Dean want to do it again?

His breathing resides quickly, but for some reason, he's not tired. He's not drained. He doesn't want to go right to sleep. Dean truly, genuinely wants Castiel inside him. Castiel is still breathing heavily into Dean's neck, and Dean hooks his hands around the back of his damp neck and pulls him up so their lips meet again, tongues dancing and swirling around each other. Dean wraps his free hand around Castiel's back and trails it down against his ass, pulling Castiel's thigh around his waist and tangling their legs together.

"Are you ready, Dean?" Castiel asks, hand rubbing Dean's jawline.

Dean nods, "I'm ready."

Castiel reaches towards the bedside table next to him, but Dean grabs his wrist as soon as Castiel's fingers touch the condom. Castiel looks at him questioningly.

Dean blinks slowly. "I'm clean."

Castiel visibly swallows, "Me too."

Dean grinds his teeth down.  _This is it._ _  
_

Why can't he stop staring at Castiel? He can see every movement he makes, every blink or twitch of an eyelash, or every lip curve and tremble; Dean just can't stop, because Castiel is so  _fucking_ beautiful. And it's almost sad, how happy he is, because he knows he'll most likely never be as happy as he is again as he is right now. Or maybe he will, he doesn't know. What matters now is what he  _feels_ now.

Castiel kisses him once again very briefly, and then sits up, leaving a cold shiver against Dean's skin where Castiel's chest was once pressing.

"You should turn onto your stomach, it will be much easier." Castiel says seriously, "You can rest your legs down."

Dean nods, turning onto his stomach and resting his head gently against the pillow, closing his eyes and waiting to feel which part of his body Castiel will touch first. He slowly feels a hand brush softly against his shoulder blade and then following the bones of his spine down to the dimples of his back, where Castiel runs smooth fingers over the skin of Dean's ass and then to his thighs, pulling each of his legs apart and giving Castiel room to slot in between them.

Never before in his life has Dean felt so at ease but also so incredibly terrified _._

Dean takes a breath, raises his arms above his head, and squeezes the pillow case. Castiel kisses his shoulder.

"Are you sure about this, Dean?"

"Yes." Dean says instantly. He doesn't open his eyes.

Castiel kisses his shoulder again and presses his body against Dean's, where Dean can feel Castiel's cock touch the back of his thigh. Warm hands are at the top of Dean's back, tenderly depressing into his skin. They begin sliding down, and Castiel's mouth follows his fingers, nipping and sucking skin on Dean's spine. He can feel Castiel shaking with desire yet he also feels him moving slowly. Slowly, too slowly, with a feather light touch, Castiel traces the curves of Dean's ass with his finger tips before Dean hears the click of a bottle cap.

There's more kisses against the back of his neck as one of Castiel's hand wraps around the side of his hip, and then Dean feels the cold, slick tip of Castiel's cock touch his entrance. Dean shuts his eyes tighter. Castiel hesitates for a moment.

"I'm sure, Cas," Dean reassures him, "I'm sure."

Castiel's grip tightens against the back of Dean's hand. The tip enters, and Dean grinds his teeth. And then Castiel,  _very slowly_ , moves in a little more, and a little more, and a little more, until his hips have met Dean's skin.

"Are you okay?" Castiel asks, hot breath in Dean's ear.

Dean nods, "Yeah, Cas." He says as _normal_ as _possible_ , because never before in his life has he felt a burning tightness as bad as this. It is almost unbearable; so much worse than Castiel's fingers and what Dean had imagined. He can't let Castiel know that, though. He can't have Castiel stop.

It hurts, but it also  _doesn't_ hurt.

Castiel stays like that for a while, letting Dean get used to the stretch, letting his muscles relax around him. Castiel intertwines the palms of his hands onto the back's of Dean's and lifts them over his head. Castiel kisses timidly against the nape of Dean's neck until Dean's breathing subdues. Dean can sense Castiel's hips wanting to move, but he can also sense Castiel's  _patience_ ; his desire to cherish the feeling.

"You can move, Cas." Dean says with ragged breath. Castiel leans his forehead against the back of Dean's neck and pulls out even slower then he pushed in. Dean bites down on his teeth again. It hurts, still very badly, but not as bad as it had before.

And they continue like this for awhile, forbearing such a keen and anxious moment, with Castiel moving as slow as his body will allow him to in and out of Dean, kissing the skin on his back and groaning quietly in Dean's ear. After some time, the pain dulls, and Dean's body begins to accept the feeling, and he finds himself releasing his tight strain on Castiel's hands and just melting back against him.

Once Castiel realizes that Dean has succumb to the feeling, he pushes in a little faster. Dean groans loudly.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Castiel stops his movement, "How does it feel?"

Dean arches his back, "It feels good, Cas. Feels so good — don't stop."

Castiel listens to him, thrusting his cock back inside of Dean and receiving a delightful moan from the man. Dean can't even remember the burning pain he had felt before, and now all he can feel is the burning  _pleasure_ of  _Castiel._ It's amazing, this feeling, whatever it may be thats beginning to simmer in the pit of Dean's stomach. Listening to the noises Castiel is making, his shaken breath and euphonic moans, the feeling of delicate skin sliding against his back. It's so tantalizingly  _beautiful_.

Castiel isn't moving fast, he isn't moving like he's got somewhere else to be; he's moving like he as all the time is the world, just savoring and adoring Dean. Dean's incredibly relaxed now, enjoying Castiel's cock buried so deep inside him, enjoying the chaste kisses on his shoulder blades, enjoying Castiel's hands intertwine with his own.

Castiel is moving deep enough to hit his prostate now, and it's beginning to turn Dean into a whimpering disaster. It's so incredibly  _good_ — and Dean's not sure how much longer he can last if Castiel moves like he is, rolling his hips gently. 

"Cas-Castiel—" Dean groans out, "— I need to see you."

Castiel stops his movements, and pulls out of Dean unhurriedly. Dean winces at the emptiness, but gladly turns over so he can finally kiss him again like he's been aching to do for the last several minutes. Castiel's eyes; so lust-blown and incandescent, to say that they are just 'blue' would just be like saying that the sun is just 'yellow'; sufficient but not accurate enough to capture the burning. Dean had a sky of his own to look up into, although it may not contain the sun, it still contains the warmth.

And it's his eyes that completely destroy him, that make him so lost and out of focus, that he just lets Castiel kiss him and touch him, and Dean can't even seem to move. He lets Castiel push back inside him, and he just feels so  _whole_.

Dean wraps arms around Castiel's back and pulls him close, kissing him passionately with his tongue. Castiel's hips begin to move in and out of him again, slick and wanting, until both of them are sweating but not caring about the sticky mess between them. And Dean can feel it, the start of his peak, the steady grow that he can feel so deep in the center of his core. Castiel kisses his neck, nipping and leaving marks against tender skin. Dean is assaulted with the smell of mint and honey again, and the feeling of Castiel's cock pressing against his sweet spot. The feeling in his stomach is getting stronger.

"Cas, I'm going to — "

"Me too, Dean," Castiel chokes, moaning intricately into Dean's mouth.

Dean feels as though he can barely hold on. Listening to Castiel on top of him, listening to him whimper and moan, feeling him quiver and shake, feeling Castiel  _inside_ him; it starts to push him over his edge. His legs wrap tightly around the back of Castiel's thighs and he tenses, pressing the man closer to him and deeper inside him until his legs begin to tremble.

"Cas- _Castiel_ —" Dean groans, hands urgent to press Castiel's chest closer to his, " Fuck,  _Jesus_ , baby, it's so good — you're so good."

Castiel keeps moving in and out of him, inadvertently picking up his speed inside him, sending Dean over his edge. His vision starts to blur, and soon he's screaming out Castiel's name, and Castiel is heaving for air against Dean's neck. Castiel's movements start to spasm, whispering gentle words into Dean's ear that have Dean clutching at his back. Castiel entwines his fingers into Dean's hair and leans his forehead against his. The noises omitting Dean's mouth become his own language, and all he can feel is the tingling set so far into his stomach; all he can feel is  _Cas._ The world starts spinning and Dean can't see anything but the sky.

"I love you, Dean," Castiel cries, finally letting himself go, "I love you so much."

Castiel collapses on top of him, breathing rapidly into Dean's neck and chest. Dean is so helpless to move, so reshapen and disarmed that he can hardly move anything in his body, and all he can hear and feel is the man on top of him. He doesn't know  _what_ he feels, or  _what_ he's feeling in the pit of his body, but it's hard to say he recognizes it as a familiar feeling.

Dean watches Castiel's back rise and fall beautifully. He can hear and feel the thick breaths, the damp skin, the shuddering hands weaved into his own. His mind is blank.

And as Dean lays underneath the man who had most likely just given him the best moment of his life, he realizes two things.

1\. Castiel Milton just made love to him.

2\. He is:  _so...fucking...screwed?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys...more to come soon. I have the rest of the story planned out. It's almost over, however I can say that it's going to be a bumpy ride....
> 
>  
> 
> ...and the action is just getting started.


	16. Destination: Mini-Golfing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, okay.   
> I have a solid reason for being EXTREMELY late...  
> So, the week after I uploaded my last chapter, I was about to upload the next chapter when I suddenly got another idea for a story ending. I delayed another week and gave myself some time to think about the two possible endings.
> 
> The two possible ending turned to three possible endings...
> 
> The four...
> 
> Then five...
> 
> Then six. 
> 
> I had six fucking possible endings in my head and every one of them was as equally as intense and thrilling as the next. So you know what I did?
> 
> I WROTE OUT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE ENDINGS.
> 
> AND I STILL COULDN'T FUCKING PICK.
> 
> So, I had my friends(bless their souls) read them and decide. They agreed on one and I complied with their response and chose with them. The final decision has been made. Surprisingly, they picked the ending with the most feels....
> 
> I sincerely apologize for being late, I hope you guys don't hate me! 
> 
> So, without further ado, here is the next chapter. This one is kinda filler/little plot. This is just gearing up towards the next chapter.

"You're walking like you got fucked up the— oh yeah, you  _did_."

"That was only funny the first twenty times you said it, Cas." Dean glares back at him. At this point, Castiel seems as if he's  _bragging_ about it, although he has no one other than Dean to brag  _to_. Dean sees Castiel smirk as he tries to sit down on one of the kitchen stools, but shoots back up when he realizes that sitting is not in his best interest. Dean winces.

"It'll get better tomorrow," Castiel sits down on the stool  _easily_ with a plate of leftover apple pie.

"Showoff." Dean whispers under his breath as he begins to penguin walk to the couch. He places himself down  _carefully_ on the cushion, "I hope your apple pie is freakin' worth it!"

Castiel laughs in the background. Dean lays his head on the cushioned pillow and glares out the window. He doesn't even know what day it is. And to be frankly honest with himself, Dean couldn't care less what day it is. He's just calm. He's collected. He feels like all his insecurities about his body have just washed away and have been burned in a pit. He can finally take a deep breath.

Dean breathes and peers over to Castiel, chewing slowly and writing in what appears to be a tattered brown book.

"Whatcha' got there, Cas?" Dean asks. Castiel momentarily stops chewing and looks up to Dean but immediately looks back down. Dean furrows his brows, "Oh, I get it. Top secret. Sorry I asked, Mr. Bond."

Castiel looks up to him again and forks a mouthful of pie but doesn't answer. Dean clears his throat and huffs.

"If you must know, it's my journal." Castiel says, not bothering to look up from the pages.

"Was that so hard to say?" Dean comments. Castiel shrugs. What was the guy expecting? It isn't like Dean's going to read it or make fun of him or anything for having a journal.

Dean lays his head back on the couch pillow and grins. "Are you writing about how freakin' awesome last night was?"

Castiel laughs. "You'll never know." He winks slyly at him, "But I can't say you're wrong."

Dean smirks. Last night was,  _weird_. But not the bad kind of weird, the good kind. The kind of weird that someone wants in their life; the kind that differs someone from the person sitting across from them. Yeah, Dean is still sore. Hell, he doesn't think he's ever been in this amount of discomfort, but it doesn't bother him. He feels okay; he feels okay that he's sore, that he's vulnerable and weak. Because he knows that the weakness is his strength.

Dean lays his head back down on the couch pillow. He can make out the soft flick of graphite on paper until he hears the slam of a book and Castiel's socks begin to drag across hardwood floor. Castiel plops down on the couch next to him. Dean laughs to himself when he sees tiny purple marks on Castiel's neck that resemble bug bites. Castiel notices his grin.

"You have them too, you know."

"Yeah, Cas," Dean lifts up his shirt and exposes his marked abdomen, "You turned into a real vacuum cleaner last night."

"Oh,  _I_ turned into a vacuum cleaner?" Castiel stands from the couch and turns his back to Dean, pulling his white t-shirt over his head and exposing his back, "At least I didn't turn into  _Wolverine_."

Dean feels his cheeks blush. "I should probably cut my nails soon."

Castiel pulls his shirt down and gives him a sarcastic glare. Dean winks at him. They smile at each other for a few seconds before Castiel's hand brushes against Dean fingers. Dean looks down at his bare skin.

Sam's ring is still gone.

He forgot. It hits him like a bullet.

"Are you alright, Dean?"

Dean chuckles at Castiel's ability to pick up Dean's change in mood so quickly, like he has a sixth sense. Dean doesn't really want to talk about it, but he knows that it's  _okay_ to talk about it. So, he does.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just —" Dean clears his throat, "I left Sam's ring on the plane last week. Such a stupid mistake... I—I just hate myself for losing it."

Castiel looks at him delicately, with concern. His head tilts.

Dean doesn't like that look. It's Castiel's ' _trying to understand_ ' look. He can already feel himself to get a little angry at the fact that he's even  _thinking_ about Sam's ring, let alone talking about it.

Dean clears his throat. "Forget it, Cas. It was stupid to bring that up, just— just forget it."

"Do you want to go mini-golfing today?" Castiel asks suddenly.

Dean purses his lips and widens his confused eyes.

_That was uh...random?_

Is that Castiel's way of trying to get Dean's mind off of something, or did he just  _not care_? Dean parts his lips to say something, but his lips only stutter until they close. Dean looks to Castiel again and he looks... serious. It had been a  _legit_ question. And although the idea of mini-golfing at first strikes him as childish...it can't hurt to actually  _be_ a child again for once, especially since he never had the formal chance to be.

Dean nods cheerfully, "Yeah, well get ready to get your ass beat."

Castiel looks at him for a few seconds and squints. "Well, seeing as though you had  _your_ ass beat last night, I wouldn't count on it." Castiel winks at him and then makes his way to the stairs.

Dean doesn't have a good comeback for that one.

* * *

The mini-golfing club is less than half his size and every time he bends over to hit the golf ball,  _everything hurts_.

_Hole One...seventeen more to go..._

Dean bends — that doesn't work.

Dean tilts — that doesn't work.

Dean squats — that  _definitely_ doesn't work.

Dean huffs and just swings the club from a standing position. The ball doesn't even go anywhere close to the hole. Castiel laughs behind him and pushes Dean aside with his golf club.

"Step aside, amateur." Castiel sings. Dean raises his brows and crosses his arms. Castiel bends, and when he does it he looks back at Dean and grins, and then he proceeds to wiggle his legs as if he's getting into some sort of 'fancy golfing position'. He taps the ball with his club.

Hole in one.

"That's not fair, this one was easy, it had no obstacles." Dean spits at him, arms uncrossing and pointing  _angrily_ at Castiel's sunken golf ball.

"Dean, other than speed and direction, that was a really great putt." Castiel says proudly, leaving Dean at the start of Hole One to stare as he collects his golf ball from the hole and move onto Hole Two.

A few girls giggle behind Dean.

"There were no obstacles." Dean says to them before he stomps off to Hole Two. He hears Castiel chuckle in front of him.

Castiel stops and looks at the next hole, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He studies it for a moment.

"There's a hill on this one now," Castiel stops to look at Dean, "Think you can handle it?"

"I could slap you, you know." Dean grunts at him.

Castiel raises eyebrows in amusement. He turns and faces his left cheek to Dean and taps on the open skin, "Right here, then." Castiel taunts him. Dean huffs and steps forward and places his golf ball on the ground.

"That's what I thought," Castiel smirks.

"Damn, I haven't seen anyone bicker at each other this much since my grandparents."

Dean and Castiel turn to the unidentified voice behind them. It's one of the girls that were behind them at Hole One. Short, dark-skinned with puffy curled hair, she comes up to them and gives a warm smile, "You guys up for a game?" She asks, placing her petite hands on the hems of her jeans.

Dean looks to Castiel quickly and then back to the girl again, "Deal, but I get to be on your team."

The girl chuckles and nods, "Sarah, get over here." The girl says, and soon the other brunette is running from Hole One up to Hole Two, braided hair on each shoulder bouncing. The first girl turns to them again, "I'm Cassie, and this is Sarah."

"I'm Dean," He says, and then motions to Castiel who is standing behind him, "And that one right there who decided to wear a trench coat to play mini-golf is Castiel."

Castiel gives him a relaxed glare and sticks out his hand in front of the girls, in which they shake it gently, "Pleasure to meet you," Castiel smiles, "Excuse him, if you will, he's a sore loser. Very  _sore_ loser." Castiel looks to Dean and squints his eyes mischievously.

_Oh my god I'm dating the Devil._

Dean gives him a sarcastic smile, "We'll go first." Dean offers, and Cassie's the first one up at the front of the hole.

And she does the same goddamn thing that Castiel does.

She slowly lines herself up at the front, opening and closing one eye and aiming cautiously. She wiggles her butt before she shoots, raises her golf club gently, and hits the ball.

Hole in one.

She sways around and twirls the gold club in her hand like it had been nothing at all.

"Let's see whatcha' got," Cassie grins to him. Dean shrugs. He knows he's doomed. He can already feel himself begin to sweat. He figures, for a second, that maybe if he  _prepares_ himself like Cassie and Castiel, that  _maybe_ it might work.

So he cracks his neck, leans forward, _painfully_ , closes his left eye as he positions the golf club at his feet. He even wiggles his butt. He breathes in the cool air and lets a small gust of wind pass by him, careful not to let the breeze screw-up his  _technique_.

And he ends up making a fool of himself and missing. He hits too hard and the ball rolls off the course and onto the side-walk.

"Dean!" Cassie shouts.

"Well sorry, I didn't expect to be playing with Tiger Woods over here!" Dean shouts as he hustles to get his golf ball. Castiel's faint laughing sounds like someone is shouting next to his face.

Next up is Castiel.

Dean watches his routine, his cute little butt shake, his tender swing, and then the quick sink of the golf ball. Castiel unhurriedly walks to pick up the ball from the hole.

"I don't know how you do it, Cas." Dean comments. Castiel grins.

"It's the one thing that I'm good at." Castiel responds.

Next to go is Sarah, who just so happens to be just as bad as Dean, maybe a little worse. She  _misses_ the ball completely on her first swing, which makes Dean feel a little better about himself. It takes her five shots before she gets it in.

The rest of the game is pretty much exactly like the first two holes. With Castiel and Cassie getting as many hole in ones, pars, bogeys, and birdies they possibly can, and with Dean and Sarah either running out of swings or making it in by the time they reach the sixth swing. Dean is a little better than Sarah, though, which doesn't totally shit on his day.

When they finally make it to hole eighteen, Dean and Cassie are leading. Good thing Dean chose Cassie, or he would've been  _fucked_. Castiel and Sarah go first this time, and Castiel gets it in on the third swing and Sarah on the seventh. They banter at the other side of the course while Cassie and Dean set up for their shots.

It's getting dark out, and at the moment, Dean wants nothing more than to just go home, lay on the couch, have a beer, and have Castiel curled against his side. As much as Castiel has pissed him off today, Dean can never stay mad at him for more than 2 minutes.

Cassie bends down at Dean's feet to tie her shoe lace that had become loose. Dean tenses up a little. He can see down her shirt. He can see skin, plenty and plenty of skin, and the white lace bra that she's got underneath her shirt. But...it isn't affecting him. At all.

_But, I love boobs? Everyone loves boobs?_

Dean makes a disgruntled face. Why isn't it affecting him? Why doesn't he care? And why in the absolute fuck doesn't he have a boner? Cassie's an attractive girl, slim and charming, big brown eyes and full lips. Why isn't he into her?

Slightly confused, Dean looks up and across the green tarp, to where Castiel and Sarah are still chatting. Dean watches Castiel for a moment, the way he stands, hands folded at his chest, the way he listens and talks, head tilted attentively with his eyes squinted slightly. He watches his lips move, as they smile and sway.

"I remember when someone used to look at me like that."

Dean snaps out of it and looks at Cassie, "What?"

"Nothing," She says apprehensively, twirling her golf club and getting into position to swing. She gets it in on the third swing. Dean on the other hand, runs out of swings. But they still win.

Castiel comes up to Dean at the end of the game and nudges him, "Good game. Guess you're not as bad as I thought you were."

Dean smirks, "Guess you're not as  _good_  as I thought you were." He laughs. Castiel rolls his eyes. The girls come back from returning the golf balls and clubs . They give the boys mild grins.

"Thanks for the game, guys." Sarah says kindly to them.

"Yeah, me and Dean kicked your asses." Cassie laughs. Dean and Sarah look at each other uneasily, "Okay,  _I_  kicked  _Castiel's_  ass." Cassie laughs and hands a piece of paper to Dean, "Let me know if you guys ever want to go for round two." She grins, laying out her arms and wrapping them quickly around Castiel's shoulders to hug him. Sarah does the same. Cassie faces Dean and opens up steady arms.

She smells fruity, like peaches, and her arms wrap tightly around the back of Dean's neck.

"Don't let him go," She whispers in his ear, slowly releasing coiled arms from his body. Dean nods. Castiel gives them both a nervous stare. Sarah hugs Dean, and they say last goodbyes before they go their separate ways.

Castiel looks at Dean while they're walking back to the car.

"What did Cassie say?" He asks.

Dean grins and looks at him, "She said you suck at golf."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is where everything goes downhill.
> 
> Brace yourself my friends. We're about to experience a little turbulence.


	17. Destination: To The Nearest Emergency Exit

Dean wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. He's not concerned about it, because he knows that he and Castiel are different when it comes to sleeping in; he could sleep in until three in the afternoon, although Castiel wouldn't dare sleep past nine. Dean lazily drags himself out of bed and scuffs his feet to the bathroom, happy to notice that the feeling of walking normally has become easier.

Dean stands in front of the bathroom mirror, placing tired hands on the edges of the white granite counter.

He feels giddy.

Or maybe he's not  _giddy_ , maybe it's... _euphoria?_

He feels like he's got butterflies that are hatching babies in his stomach all the time, and he can't seem to make them go away. He feels disorganized with himself, because all of his  _euphoria_ is making him feel  _anxious_ , like his sense of well-being is endangered. And he's... _exhausted_. Why is he exhausted? He feels emotional and receptive. One minute he's this, one minute he's that — is he bipolar?

Are his testosterone levels dropping? Why doesn't he feel... _manly_?

He's confused. He's so confused. He's unsure of what's actually happening, or what's actually real. What is he  _feeling_? He's going into emotional overdrive.

_Jesus Christ._

Dean's gripped the edges of the countertop so hard that his fingers hurt, and they crack when Dean clenches his fists. He's so disoriented, he can't come to terms with himself—he feels like he's been taking a goddamn pre-calculus test all week long and he can't figure out whether the last question is a,b, or c. He feels a sense of panic.

But, he knows that he also feels so incredibly calm at the same time. He's serene. Not the calm  _before_ the storm, but the calm  _and_ the storm. All together, all at once.

_What is this?_

Dean clears his throat, and suddenly feels as if he can't swallow. His throat hurts suddenly, as if he had been snacking on rusty nails.

_It can't be...I'm not...am I?_

"No," Dean cracks his neck, "That's ridiculous."

He never felt this way with Lisa, not even when he actually  _liked_ her. With her, it was the constant reminder of all of his mistakes, all of his worst decisions were looking him right in the eye. Every lie, every deceit, every trick — it had slapped him straight across the face every day. Every  _damn_ day. Dean thought he could never forget that. He thought he could never forget the pain.

But he does. Castiel made him forget.

But—

But  _how_?

Dean doesn't even realize he's sitting on the tiled floor until his phone starts ringing, letting his mind ease back into reality. He scrambles to the bedside drawer and flips it open. The metal presses cold and awakening to his ear.

"Hello?"

_"Hey Dean, you busy?"_

"Oh—" Dean takes a breath, "Hey Sam, uh, no I'm not."

 _"Just wanted to make sure I wasn't interrupting anything,"_ Sam begins. Dean pauses and waits for Sam to get on with it.  _"Look, I just wanted to tell you that I think Lisa went back home. She left yesterday. Haven't seen any signs of her."_

The wave of relief that washes over Dean is indescribable. "Hallelujah." He says calmly.

 _"Thought you might like that,"_ Sam chuckles,  _"How's Cas?"_

Dean sits down on the bed. "Downstairs. Man, the guy gets up at the crack o' dawn, and I don't know how he does it."

Sam laughs, but doesn't seem too interested. Dean can hear the slight intake of air that Sam breathes, like he's about to say something important.

 _"And how are_ you _, Dean?"_

Dean shrugs to himself. "You say that like I'm supposed to say something other than 'fine'."

 _"I've been hoping you'd say something other than 'fine' for a while now."_ Sam replies almost instantly,  _"I just want to know how you feel."_

Dean becomes tense. Very tense. A sudden ache in his neck begins to bother him. What does Sam even  _mean_?

"Well," Dean begins, "I'm pretty tired. Exhausted."

 _"You know that's not what I mean."_ Sam strains in annoyance. The other line is instantly quiet with the harsh tone of static. Dean pauses, swallowing roughly before taking a seat on the floor, his back pressing against the wooden cabinet and his head laying tilted to the side of the bed.

"I feel like I've been on a train ride," Dean starts, not even knowing where he's going or who's comprising the words coming out of his mouth, "A crowded train ride that's been going on for hours. Endless hours. My legs have been aching from standing too long, I've got some guy's sweaty armpit in my face and some lady's baby is crying behind me, and I've got some guy on a business call that won't stop yelling in my face,"

Dean inhales a sharp intake of air, gutting it down like it's a handful of nails. He raises a flat palm out in front of him and waves it in one slow arched movement.

"And all of a sudden," Dean blinks slowly, "A seat opens up. A plain, empty seat. One that's away from everyone, and I can just sit there by myself and not have to worry about a thing. Not have to worry about a sweaty armpit, or a crying baby, or a yelling asshole. Not a damn thing,"

Dean exhales as if he had been holding in his breath too long. Sam is silent again, and the familiar harsh static returns. Dean listens to the static for a while, trying to process what he said. He eventually hears Sam huff a small laugh.

 _"Alright, Dean,"_ Sam takes a breath,  _"I get it."_

"You do?" Dean asks, because  _he_ doesn't even know what he meant. He doesn't even understand  _himself_.

 _"Yeah, I do. And it sounds like you've got a lot to think about,"_ Sam laughs again. It somehow calms Dean down, _"So I'm gonna' let you go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"_

"Okay." Dean says blankly, monotone and empty, "Bye, Sammy." He says, shutting the phone and staring faceless at the floor. And he rises to his feet slowly, without a single emotion emanating off him; he changes into fresh clothes, brushes his teeth, takes care of his hair and then plops back down onto the bed and stares at the ceiling as if he were counting stars.

He doesn't even think about anything. He just looks around. At the door, the hazelnut wood that matches perfectly with the oatmeal colored walls. He notices a painting of a pink and orange sunset that he never noticed before. He notices the shape of the light that the corner lamp illuminates on the wall, and how wierd of a shape it really is. He notices the way the sheets on the bed are sloppy, creases and folds everywhere. He notices Castiel's pillow, and the inverted ridge of where Castiel's head had been.

He notices how close he is to that pillow.

"Dean?! Are you awake?" Castiel shouts suddenly from downstairs.

"Uh, yeah—" Dean yells back, voice contorted and confused.

"Would you mind coming down for a second?"

Dean drags himself off the bed and to the stairs, slightly dizzy from the sudden change of elevation. He sees Castiel sitting at the island with his hands folded on his lap. Castiel has the dumbest smile on his face — which instantly transfers to Dean — and he motions for Dean to come sit down in the stool next to him.

Dean also notices a little black box in front of him, to which Castiel then slides it over in front of Dean when he sits down in the stool.

"What is this?" Dean asks. Castiel's smile only deepens. His cheeks are darkening.

"Open it." Castiel urges.

Dean picks up the small black box that's not even bigger than his hand. Dean shakes it a little, "Well, it's not heavy."

"Just open it!" Castiel unfolds his hands, crossing one around his chest and using it as a stand to support his other arm, which covers half his face. Cas is anxious.

Dean shakes his head, beginning to loosen the top of the box, "It better not be a watch or some shit like that Cas, I'll make you return—" Dean suddenly stops what he's saying, the words were instantly sucked right out of him.

It's not a watch.

He stares at it for a second and then looks to the man in the stool in front of him.

Dean hesitates, "H-How...Cas... _how_?"

Castiel shrugs, "I remembered what you told me in the elevator, about losing your brother's ring, so I called the Airway company and asked them what to do in case of a missing object lost on one of their planes. They reconnected me to one of the flight attendants that was on the plane. After a few hours I had been connected, and according to them, they hold lost-and-found objects for 2 months before donating them to charity." Castiel nods, "I seemed to have forgotten her name but, I think it may have been, Bela? Yes, I think so — she said she had found it in the bathroom and that she would mail it to me overnight."

Dean picks up the silver ring, placing it in the palm of his hand and closing tightly. He seems to have forgotten to breathe, and all he can feel in the tight condensing of his throat.

_Sam's ring._

He's holding  _Sam's ring._

"Cas I—  _Thank you_ ," Dean grabs the man by his shoulders and hugs him so tightly he thinks he may break a few ribs, "I can't thank you enough for this. This is—"

"My pleasure," Castiel breathes warmly against his neck, "It's my pleasure."

Dean doesn't want to let him go. He's never felt this happy, about anyone, or anything in his life. He can't even remember the last time he was even close to this euphoria. And it's not just the ring that is making him happy — it's that Castiel is happy. He's happy that Castiel is happy about him being happy.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to suffocate me," Castiel breathes with congestion.

"Cas, I just—I just wanted to say that I—" Dean chokes down whatever was about to come out of his mouth when a sudden tight knot twists hard in his throat. He can feel Castiel's chest intake a large breath of air, "—Thank you." Dean finishes. Castiel exhales, and then releases his tight grip on Dean's body.

"As I said, Dean, it's my pleasure." Castiel smiles warmly. Dean notices how Castiel's eyes wilt slightly; behind the wall of joy, Dean can see that Castiel had expected something more out of this moment. Castiel thought he was going to say  _it_.

Dean feels his cheeks redden. He wants to take his eyes away from Castiel, to apologize, but Castiel looks so innocent, so indulged in bliss, and Dean feels like he's screwed it up. Why did he have to ruin this moment— _this_ moment—the moment that may just be the best of his life and there he goes, talking without thinking —  _ruining._

He's such an idiot.

_I'm such an idiot._

"Dean," Castiel stands from the stool and picks up his jacket from the couch, "I have to go to the store. We're running low on groceries, and it's already quite late in the afternoon, I don't want to get caught in rush-hour. Is there anything specific you want?"

"Just don't get me anything green—or organic."

Castiel smirks, "Wasn't going to," He says, snatching his keys and striding to the front door, "See you soon." He says, shutting the door behind him. Dean smiles to himself.

And although he may have thought that he ruined a beautiful moment — the moment itself had still been beautiful. Castiel went through all that trouble, all that trouble to worry about Dean's feelings enough to call and wait, only to please Dean. Such a simple task that Dean himself could have done; why didn't he think of that? He feels like an idiot, even more so than he did a few minutes ago.

What would he do without Castiel? Castiel is like the other half of his brain, he wouldn't be able to comprehend things without it. Dean twists the ring back on his finger. The ring isn't just reminding him of Sam anymore, a little part of it also belongs to Castiel. And he knows that it shouldn't, because the ring rightfully  _belongs_ to Sam, but how can it not remind him of Cas?

He's ten minutes into thinking until notices how bad his cheeks hurt, and then he realizes he hasn't stopped smiling since Castiel walked out of the door.

He needs to repay him.

_I need to repay him._

"But how do I do that?" Dean scratches the back of his head before an idea develops, "Yeah, I'll make him a pie. I'll make him a fucking pie."

Dean skips out of his stool, pivoting on his feet and swaying to the fridge. He's so giddy, and he can't seem to stop. Never ever in Dean's life has he felt like he wanted to rock out to classic rock in his underwear, but here he is, with only the jeans on his legs preventing that from happening.

He bobbing his head a little to Led Zeppelin as he sides the metal bowl from the lower cabinet and onto the counter, drumming with the wooden spoon as he closes the cabinet with his butt. It's getting darker out, and Dean figures that he and Castiel will sit down later, enjoy Star Trek, eat pie, and just make the fuck out with him.

Star Trek. Food. Make-out with Cas.

Yeah, that sounds like a pretty solid plan. 

Dean's starts humming, which then grows into singing, which then grows into  _screaming_ Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta' Love". And then he's forced to stop screaming when he accidentally breaks a wooden spoon from drumming it on the counter too hard.

Dean opens the fridge to look for eggs, but the sudden knock of wood makes him jump.

Castiel's home early.

"He must need help with the bags," Dean says to himself, quickly disposing of the broken wooden spoon. He strides to the door with a smile, grabs the knob and swings open the door.

His smile drops. His skin freezes. All the breath in his lungs have evaporated.

It's not Castiel.

It's Lisa.

And she does not look happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's only going to get worse.


	18. Destination: Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's the worlds worst story updater!?
> 
>  
> 
> Me! I am!
> 
>  
> 
> God I'm such a dick I am so goddamn sorry....

“Dean,” She mutters in a soft, harsh tone.

  _Lisa_.

 Dean can’t say a word. It’s just silence that fills his mouth. He feels very sick suddenly; right down to his very core. This has to be a dream. It _must_ be. 

 Dean gulps, “You’re not real.” He shakes his head hesitantly. 

 “May I come in?” Lisa protests, and although she asks, she already begins to push her way past the door frame without an answer. 

 Dean can’t stop her. Even if he tried. He still can’t move. He’s in complete shock. 

 Lisa looks around, “Nice place,” She turns to nod at him, “Is it Castiel’s or is it a rental?” She grins; a slight mischievous movement that has each and every one of Dean’s nerves screaming. 

 “ _How_?” Dean stammers. He begins to follow her as she gives herself the tour of the house. HIs heart is pounding. 

 “I really like the counter-top,” She says, running a hand over the smooth island and walking past the kitchen. She’s so calm, content - like she doesn’t give a damn about the situation at hand, like she was just a neighbor popping in for a cup of sugar. She let’s herself outside and stands in the yard, facing the lake with her back to the house. She’s waiting for him. 

 Dean doesn’t want to follow her. He still thinks that this is a dream, and that he’ll wake up in a cold sweat at any second now in Castiel’s arms as he dabs a damp cloth around his forehead. But with each second that passes, the more he realizes that he will never wake up. So what other choice does he have?

 The air is much colder than he remembers it being. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stands behind Lisa, who still has her back to the house. Oh god he’s scared. 

 “What are you doing here?” Dean starts, “And how the _fuck_ did you get here?”

 Lisa is silent for a few moments. Dean doesn’t know wether it’s because she’s admiring the view, or if she’s thinking of an answer. 

 Lisa turns to face him. She still looks calm. “I wasn’t joking when I said I was coming to California,” There’s a seriousness in her eyes that isn’t quite readable, “I came to look for you and I found you.”

 “Clearly,” Dean huffs, “I want to know how you knew where I was. How you got here.”

 “I went to the hotel. That was my first stop. They told me you had checked out already, before I had come by,” Lisa shrugs, “Someone came up to me. She said that she was trying to contact someone by the name of Castiel Milton.”

 Dean tenses. It becomes darker and colder outside. 

“Now isn’t it funny,” Lisa steps closer to him, “I mean, I can only imagine that there would be so many _Castiel’s_ in the world. She said that she might be able to help me.”

 Dean’s mouth drops, “You talked to Castiel’s _mother_?”

 Lisa nodded, “Naomi was very helpful,” She says, and suddenly her face changes into something vicious and vengeful. Her eyes don’t leave Dean’s. 

 Dean frowns, “I didn’t ask for this — ”

 “Oh yes you did, Dean. You put this whole things on yourself. Leaving me, leaving Ben —”

 “You already left, Lisa. You left years ago.” Dean shakes his head. Lisa had already been long gone the day she made her mistake. Dean had never felt her presence the same since. She has always been a ghost to him. 

 Lisa goes silent. They stare at each other for a second. It’s dead. It’s all dead. They way her eyes flick back and forth — it’s all just lifeless movements. The color in her eyes is faded, like a dead leaf now, but was once filled with color and life and specks of hue. 

 Lisa finally speaks, moving a few inches closer to his face. It’s not intimidating anymore to him. “Why _him_? Why did you leave with him?” 

 Dean grinds his teeth. “He was never meant to happen.” Dean instantly feels the inside of his chest hollow. He tries to inhale but his airway is blocked, “He was a mistake—it was all a mistake—”

 Lisa opens her mouth to say something but closes it. Dean can tell she knows he’s not done with what he needs to say. But he also knows that she can see very well that it’s hard for him to say it. 

  _Just say it._

 Dean’s mouth creaks a little, and he can suddenly, and surprisingly feel his vision being blurred. The inside of his body feels like it’s burning. It hurts. Everything hurts. He straightens his hands from clenching them and all of his bones bear extreme pain. 

 He stares at the grass for a moment, and then looks back at Lisa. 

 “Falling in love with him was an accident. It wasn’t meant to happen, but it just did. Hell, I couldn’t even admit it to myself until I just said it out loud.” 

 His bones stop hurting. Everything stops hurting.

 “You’re in love with him?” Lisa looks stunned, and her mouth staggers open. 

 The side of Dean’s mouth curls up, “Fuck yeah I am.” 

  _Jesus fucking Christ._

“I’m fucking in love with him.”

 He looks to Lisa again. She doesn’t look hurt. She looks shocked for sure, but not hurt. Dean knows she’s not hurt. Neither of them are hurt, and neither of them will ever be. The ice has been broken, questions have been answered, and the separation has been made.

 Lisa just nods, and then leaves. 

 There’s a strong breeze that waves over him, and Dean is left in the backyard in his own company. 

 “I’m in love with him.” Dean says quietly to himself. He’s known it this whole time, yet when he admits it to himself it sounds so surreal. His chest doesn’t hurt anymore, and as a matter of fact, he realizes that _nothing_ hurts anymore. All the aches and pains he’s had for days, they suddenly vanished. He had been keeping in his emotions so long that it _physically_ hurt him. 

  _I need to tell Castiel._

 Dean runs inside, contemplating different way to do this. Does he just come out and say it? Does he do something romantic? Dean shakes his head, he’s not a hopeless romantic. He shuts the glass door and makes his way to the kitchen.

 Theres grocery bags on the counter.

  _He’s home._

  _Oh god._

  _What do I do._

 “Cas? You home?”

  _No! You aren’t ready!_

 Despite him not being ready at all to tell him, he decides he’s just going to come out and say it. The second he comes in. _“I love you.”_

 Dean stands in the kitchen and waits for him. Castiel doesn’t come in. Dean’s getting nervous.

 “Castiel? Where are you?” Dean runs upstairs and peaks his head in the bathroom, but he isn’t there either. Dean shouts once more for him, but with no luck. He figures that maybe there are more groceries in the car. 

 He goes outside, and sees the garage door is open, but only the Impala is parked. The other car, a beaten up ’75 Camaro, is gone. Dean comes around to the side of the Impala and sees a little, folded piece of paper in between the door. He pulls it out and unfolds it.

  _Dean,_

 

_I believe I walked in the house at the wrong time. I never intended to be your mistake._

_I decided it was best to leave, as I did not want to be there for the rest of your conversation with Lisa._

_I’m awful at goodbyes. So I will leave you with this..._

_I had a great time. More fun than I think I’ve ever had with anyone. Thank you for showing me what it feels like to love again. I have realized that despite how things ended, I am happy with how everything turned out. I am very happy with how far we have come, and I am happy that you have forgotten about how much you originally disliked me. I don’t know how you feel, about this, or about me, and frankly, I don’t need to know. You have made me the happiest man these past few weeks, and I thank you immensely for letting me meet your wonderful family. Sam, Bobby, Karen - they are all beautiful people. Give them my utmost appreciation for their kindness. Tell Sam that Ruby is a stunning women, and I wish them the best of luck in their upcoming life together._

_I wish you the best of luck as well. Dean, you are a wonderful man. You don’t give yourself enough credit for who you are, and I know you may never will, but give me the satisfaction of saying it, will you?You have been, and will remain a special memory. I hope that you will never forget me as well._

 

_Castiel._

 

_P.S. You liked the car more than I did anyways._

 

 Dean turns the page to where the keys are taped to the back of the paper. He rips them off and squeezes them tightly in his hand. 

He falls to his knees. 

 Castiel’s gone. 

 Dean realizes that he must have walked in and heard part of his conversation with Lisa. 

 " _He was never meant to happen. He was a mistake—it was all a mistake—”_

 Castiel never heard the rest. He left. Castiel thinks that he’s a mistake. 

 Dean crumples the paper in his fist and puts his hands to the side of his head, digging his nails into his hair. He screams. 

 The pain is back. It’s all back. The ache in his chest has returned, but this time it’s about three thousand times worse. Dean feels like he’s going to be sick. He reaches in his back pocket for his phone and his fingers shake rapidly as he dials Castiel’s cell. 

 There’s a sudden loud vibrate that comes from above him. Dean stands, and sees Castiel’s phone ringing on the hood of the car. 

 He’s gone. Castiel is gone.

 With barely enough energy left in his body, he dials his phone once more. It rings and with every second he can feel his head pound harder. 

  _“Hey, Dean-o,”_ Gabriel laughs, _“Are you calling to break my heart too?”_

 “Where’s Cas?” Dean says aggressively, “Tell me where he is.”

  _“Do I sound like an idiot to you?”_

 “Yes, but I need to tell him I love him.” Dean admits. He crumples the note in his hand more. His hands are sweating so much that the paper has become damp and limp in his fist. 

 Gabriel chuckles. _“How did you come to that conclusion? According to him, he was your_ mistake _.”_

 “He’s not any mistake, Gabe.” Dean holds himself back from kicking the side of the car, “Please, trust me. Just hear me out — I need to talk to him.”

 Gabriel sighs on the other line. It’s silent for a few seconds. 

 And then Gabriel hangs up. 

 Dean pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the screen. He shuts it and throws it angrily on the ground. He turns to lean against the car, placing his aching forehead on the cold metal. Dean pounds his fist against the roof of the car. 

 Dean’s lost all hope. He doesn’t know who to call, who to talk to, where to go. He can stay here, but what’s the point? The whole house would be a constant reminder of Castiel. He’s going to have to call Sam. But what will happen when Dean tells Sam that he has lost the best thing that has ever happened to him? Sam will be disappointed in him. He’s already so disappointed in himself. 

 The cold exterior of the car helps his head a bit. He tries to breathe, to calm down. 

 Suddenly,  Dean’s phone chimes. He spins around to pick up his phone off the ground. He wipes away pieces of broken glass from the sides and reads through the cracked screen at the text message. 

 Gabriel has sent him an address. 

 


	19. Destination: The Address

 

Dean sets his packed suitcase down at the door. He pulls his brown leather jacket off the coat-hanger and throws it on carefully. He dabs his back pocket to make sure his plane ticket is secured in the fabric.He checks his phone for the time.

 

**_9:00 AM_ **

 

Dean shakes his head. He can’t believe he’s up this early. But then again, he needs to get _there_ as soon as he can. He told the cab driver to come ten minutes after nine, so he still has some time to reminisce in the debris of the house. 

 

With a deep breath, he makes his way to the kitchen, and he sits in one of the black stools accompanying the island. Dean smiles to himself and places a warm hand on the cold granite counter.

_"Peanut butter and jelly?" Castiel said. He looked up at Dean and shrugged. "We didn't have anything else in the house. I'll have to go shopping tomorrow. I-I hope you don't mind."_

_Dean remembers taking the sandwich gladly. "Man, I haven't had one of these in a long time. Thanks, Cas."_

_"You should get sleep in a comfortable environment tonight. I made up your bed."_

_Dean stopped chewing. "What do you mean,_ my  _bed?"_

_"Well, I—" Castiel shrugged"—I assumed you wanted your own bed."_

_"Why would you think I'd want my own bed?"_

The swarm that arises in his stomach is happy and sad. Dean remembers the sweet taste of his lips. And also the extremely hot sex they had a few minutes later, but that’s beside the point. 

Rising from the stool, he makes his way out to the backyard. This is his first time coming out here before noon. It’s stunning, and everything is alive and full of color. He’s going to miss it. He really is. Everything about the lake; the smell of fresh air, the beauty, the sense of being at home. He’s even going to miss all the bugs. 

_"Oh," Castiel blushed, "Well, do you like it? We could sleep out here, if you wanted. It's warm enough, and I have blankets inside."_

_Dean remembers the look on Castiel’s face. The way he seemed so eager for Dean’s approval, the need for reassurance. "Love it, Cas."_

_"I grew up here. No one ever comes here anymore. It's truly a shame. The lake is so beautiful. This place belonged to my parents. They gave it to us. Anna, Michael, Gabriel and I, but we rarely ever come up to Kansas anymore. Lawrence, Kansas isn't the ideal place to be, according to my siblings."_

_"Well, we're here now."_

 

Dean sighs and begins walking back into the house. He knows that if he stays much longer, he won’t be able to leave at all. He shuts the patio door and locks it. Dean checks his phone again.

**_9:05_ **

He has time to run up to the second floor. So he does, skipping every other step on the stairs, making his way eagerly to the bedroom. When he sees the room, for the last time, he realizes how sad he actually is. 

_"Are you ready, Dean?" Castiel asked, hand rubbing Dean's jawline, their bodies tightly pressed together._

_Dean remembers feeling nervous. He remembers feeling vulnerable. However he nodded, because he meant it._

_"I'm ready."_

Dean knows he lost something that night. And no—it wasn’t _just_ his anal virginity, but he knows that he lost the fear of loving again. Dean knows now that that was the moment when he knew he loved Castiel. Castiel had shaped him back into what he thought could never be regained: a man. Castiel had proven to Dean that he isn’t the only one broken — and because of that, Dean realizes that it’s okay to be broken. 

 

Dean sits on the edge of the bed and cups his face in his hands. 

 

_I’m such a fucking MORON._

 

Dean can’t believe he let this happen. Everything he’s done to keep Castiel with him he feels like he wasted. He should’ve said he loved him when he knew. He should’ve _fucking_ said it. Castiel should’ve known that he was loved. 

 

Had Dean really even protected him at all?

 

Two car honks come from outside. 

 

The cab is here. 

 

Dean knows it’s time to go, but he really doesn’t want to. This place gave him everything he could’ve ever wanted. A real _home_. A _family._ And now Dean doesn’t know if he’ll ever see it again. Dean glances quickly around the bedroom, and then notices a small, brown book on Castiel’s nightstand. 

 

_Castiel’s journal._

 

Another two honks come, and Dean hastily runs to grab the book from the nightstand, makes his way downstairs and leaves the house without looking back. 

 

* * *

 

 

As Dean sits at gate 34 waiting for his flight to board, he realizes that sitting there is harder than he thought. Everywhere he looks he swears he can see a quick whip of a trench coat out of the corner of his eye. He rubs sweaty palms on his jeans. 

A young girl with a Kansas University sweatshirt and long, brown, and wavy hair sits diagonal from him; she keeps looking up and smiling, batting her eyelashes at him. Her brown eyes are piercing. 

It has no effect on Dean. It actually is downright pissing him off and is making him anxiously await his departure. 

He digs in his carry-on bag until he finds the brown journal. He rubs the clasp on the side with his thumb and unhooks it, hesitating for a second before flipping it open. It’s wrong to be reading Castiel’s journal, and Dean knows that. But he can’t help himself. What if Castiel said something about him? About his feelings? Dean has to know. He flips around a few pages until he sees _“Day 1”_ written in bulk writing at the top of the page. It’s dated September 22nd.

 

_Day 1 - September 22nd_

_I met someone today. His name is Dean Winchester. He is currently passed out drunk in my hotel room._

_We didn’t get off to a great start. I made the mistake of listening to Gabe, and that inevitably got my ass into trouble. However we came to good terms - or at least I_ thought _we had come to good terms, but now I think something must be wrong. Dean was angry, and yelling and saying it was all my fault. I don’t know what was my fault, but he seemed as if I had committed murder._

_I assume I will find out what I did in the morning. And if I don’t, I won’t ask._

_Dean seems like a good guy. A really good guy. He has an intimidating presence, however something tells me if you dig a little he won’t be so intimidating._

_He’s beautiful. I stare at him a lot, but I can’t help it._ _I hope he doesn’t think I’m...creepy._

_I also hope that we can be friends._

 

Dean shuts the journal and closes his eyes. Reading _Day 1_ had somehow calmed him. 

The overhead speaker on Gate 34 crackles, and a low, monotone voice speaks, “Excuse me, flight 923 to New York will now start to board. All handicapped passengers and all passengers who need assistance will board first, followed by first class and extra leg-room seats.”

The girl with the Kanas University sweatshirt stands from her seat, flips her hair, and starts walking toward Dean. Dean sighs and puts his head down, awaiting for her appearance. 

“Hey, you look very familiar, do you go to Kansas University?”

Dean looks up at her, her brown eyes glassy and dilated. She obviously knows that he doesn’t go to the school, but Dean has to admit that it was a good pickup line, and probably one that he would use as well. Dean can see the blush rising in her cheeks. She looks sweet, innocent, her olive skin smooth and porcelain. Something about her comes across as mischievous, though. Dean thinks about what to say for a minute. And instead of saying, “ _No, I’m just visiting the area, but thank you.”_ , like he planned to say, he says something that comes from the deepest, darkest cave in his mind. 

“I’m gay, sorry.”

Her eyes widen immensely, and she looks stunned, “Bummer,” She says with a grin, “All the good ones are either gay or taken.”

Dean gulps. He’s _wicked_ embarrassed. He doesn’t even know where the actual _fuck_ that came from. He’s not 100% gay, and he knows that. The fact of the matter is that he loves Castiel, and he doesn’t feel any level of attraction toward anyone else. 

Maybe he said it so she could back off, or maybe because he loves a _man_ at the _moment_...whatever it is, he doesn’t know. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Dean says back to her. The rouge in her cheeks had multiplied greatly but she seems very relaxed. Her wide cheeks form small dimples as she tries to release a smile. Dean can tell she’s embarrassed on the inside.

Wouldn’t you be if you hit on someone shooting for the other team?

“Have a good flight,” She says, winking at him and backing away. 

Dean awkwardly smiles and wishes that he could vanish of the face of the earth. 

The overhead speaker crackles again, “Now boarding rows ten to twenty.”

Dean stands and approaches the gate entrance. The attendant scans his ticket, and soon he is walking down the tunnel to board the plane. 

He steps onto the plane and a flight attendant smiles at him, “Hi, sir. Where are you sitting?”

“Seat 15B, but I can manage. Thank you.” Dean says with a forced smile. He begins to walk down the isle until he sees his row. He stops.

_Why does this always happen to me._

Kansas University girl looks up at him from seat 15A. A small smirk grows on her face, “If you were straight this could’ve been a much better flight.”

Dean grins. He somehow likes this girl. She unbuckles her seatbelt and stands so he can sit down. By the time he’s seated and buckled, Kansas girl already has her headphones plugged in. Dean can hear the heavy metal music vaguely through the small speakers. Dean decides to leave her alone for the long flight.

 

* * *

 

It’s an hour into the flight and Dean hasn’t done anything else than look out the window at the clouds. He wants to do something else, but frankly he doesn’t really have the energy to do it.He’s not really sure he has the energy to do anything, and for a moment, he feels a depressed aura around him. 

A flight attendant approaches his row, “Can I offer you guys refreshments?” She asks kindly. 

Kansas immediately unplugs her headphones, “Got any liquor in that rolling cart of yours?”

The flight attendant smiles and nods, “I’m going to have to see some identification, please.”

Kansas rolls her eyes and shuffles in her bag for her wallet. She’s got Dean’s attention, though; the way she carries herself is very egocentric, and to Dean it’s very entertaining. Kansas shows her ID and then the flight attendant takes out small bottles of vodka and whiskey. She takes one of each. 

“Anything for you, sir?” The attendant locks eyes with Dean.

“What do you have for snacks?” Dean asks. Kansas chuckles at him. 

“Crackers and cookies.” 

“Cookies.” Dean says right away. She hands him a pack and then turns to the other row. Dean looks at the back of the package, “I wonder what these things are made of. You think they’re made of recycled cardboard?”

Kansas takes out her headphones, “Do I look like Google to you?”

Dean’s mouth gapes in awe at her response, “Guess not.” He says. 

_What a bitch._

“Don’t take it personally,” Kansas says, opening her small bottle of whiskey, “I’m like this to everyone.”

Dean huffs a laugh, “You must have a great family bond, then.”

“Not so much,” Kansas puts one headphone back in and moves her brunette hair behind her ear, “The amount of times that I blamed shit on my siblings...I’m surprised they all don’t have a restraining order.”

“That’s what being family is all about though, right?” Dean agrees. 

Kansas looks unamused, “If you say so. My siblings always called me little demon.” She grins, “I’m coldblooded at heart. I wake up in the morning sometimes and wonder when my black eyes are going to show up.” 

All Dean does is smile. Something about her is comforting. Her eyes are intimidating, but they just have this presence that makes him feel relaxed. He has no idea why, but Dean finds a sense of comfort in talking to this egoistically inclined girl that he knows barely anything about other than the fact that she has the word ‘troublemaker’ plastered onto her pretty face. 

She grins at him and then plugs the other headphone in. Dean suddenly hears the faint sound of rock-and-roll. Kansas shuts her eyes and tilts her head to the side. Dean decides to leave it at that. 

He takes out Castiel’s journal and flips through a few pages. 

 

_Day 4 - September 26th_

_We went to Disneyland today. I’ve never had so much fun with someone before. He took me onto Splash Mountain. I completely embarrassed myself in the process, but somehow everything turned out alright in the end._

_Dean has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I find myself unable to stop looking at him. It isn’t even just his eyes, it’s the way he makes me feel protected, like I am the only thing he is thinking about at the moment._

_I can’t stop wondering what he feels. He said that he was getting married, but sometimes I can’t help but notice when his eyes linger, or his cheeks blush._

_Somehow I feel as though when it is time to part, it’s going to be harder than I think it is._

 

Dean stops reading when he feels his stomach drop a little. Castiel was right - when he left, it was the hardest thing Dean has ever had to feel. He flips to another page in hopes of a happy memory. This one does not have a date, nor a day at the top of it.

 

_It’s 2 AM. I’m tired, exhausted, and sore. And completely, utterly, in awe._

_The man I thought was straight, the man I thought was out of my league, the man I thought was so imperfectly perfect, just..._ **_fucked the absolute shit out of me_ ** _._

 

Dean covers his mouth and chuckles. 

 

_I can’t comprehend what I feel right now, because I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I know that I like him a lot. I probably shouldnt’ve slept with him, because now I dread the time when I have to leave him. But, I just couldn’t help myself. Everything about it was just perfect._

_I’m just hoping I can make it last._

 

There’s more written on the page, but for some reason Dean doesn’t want to finish. Instead he flips through to the very last page where he sees writing. 

 

_October 2nd_

_I'm not as sure of this as I was before. He is still here and well, but something seems to be bothering him. I'm fairly sure a great deal of it belongs to the incident with his father...I remain unable to mention the incident. I can tell it's too difficult for him to talk about._  
And I don't want to intrude on his feelings, especially if I'm unsure of where this path is taking us.

 _I like him. I really do...to the point where I fear I may be in way over my head. I'm afraid to ask him about his feelings for me. I want to, very badly, but I shouldn't ask questions that I do not want to know the answer to. I am finally in a place where I feel safe, protected, trusted._  
I do not want to lose that.  
I do not want to lose him.  
But I'm afraid to ask him to stay.

 

Dean shuts the journal immediately. He suddenly feels like _shit._ Castiel was finally happy with what had come out of their relationship, and somehow Dean had to turn it all around and ruin it. He knew somehow he’d fuck it up one way or another. Now it was just proving to Castiel that what he heard with Lisa was not the truth. 

_He was afraid to ask me to stay._

Castiel should’ve done it. Dean would’ve said yes. He would’ve had to think about it, and maybe he would’ve been skeptical about it at first, but now Dean knows for sure that he wants to be with Castiel for a very, very long time. 

Dean stuffs the book back into his bag and decides not to take it out anymore. He leans his head against the plane’s wall and looks out the window for the rest of the flight. 

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, he finds himself being shoved harshly on the shoulder. 

“Wake up sleeping beauty, time to rise and shine.”

Dean rubs his eyes and sees Kansas nudging his shoulder. He hadn’t even remembered when he fell asleep. Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and stretches his legs. He’s _here_. One step closer to the address. 

Dean anxiously squirms in his seat until the people on the plane begin to file out. He exits the plane and smiles slightly when he steps onto the platform. He can remember perfectly the way Castiel stood waiting for him, the way his trench coat sleeves hung too low on his hands, the small smile on his face when he saw Dean exit the plane. He’d give anything to go back to that day; for another chance to make everything right. 

Dean gets caught so far up in daydreaming that he bumps into the person in front of him. Kansas turns to glare at him. She slowly takes out her headphones and raises vain eyebrows at him. 

Dean raises open palms, “Sorry, Kansas, got distracted.”

The girl makes a disturbed face, “Kansas?” She grins, “Already giving me nicknames, huh? I guess this is moving faster than I thought.”

Dean shrugs, “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.” He says, stepping off the platform tunnel and into the busy airport. The girl looks at him with slim eyes and takes a step away from him.

“That’s because I didn’t give it,” She calls to him, backing away even further. Dean wants to follow her but ends up taking steps backward.

“I’m Dean. Dean Winchester,” He speaks loudly, almost at a soft yell. Kansas grins at him, plugging her headphones back into her ears and shaking her head. She’s distant in a swarm of faces now, and the logo on her sweatshirt is becoming hard to read.

She yells back, just before she disappears into the crowd, “I’m Meg. Meg Milton.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! My mac is super old so the battery like basically exploded, and my laptop was so slow and would crash and at one point it just wouldn't turn on. I had to take it to the apple store and it was just fixed...
> 
> I'm so sorry guys :(((


	20. Destination: Castiel Milton's Apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry this chapter took fucking forever. My old laptop was destroyed and I had to rewrite the next chapters from the beginning with an entirely different ending. It's no excuse but I hope you guys can forgive me !!!!!! xoxo love y'all - and please remember to leave a comment behind, even if it's to yell at me !!!!!!!

Dean waits at baggage claim. His hands are sweating and his eyes ponder and lock on passing, strange faces, hoping maybe he’ll see a familiar one. He taps his foot repetitively. The John F. Kennedy airport is a hurricane of people. People with bluetooth headsets and formal business attire walk and talk hurriedly through the crowd, teenagers with their headphones set so loud and their eyes glued to their phones don't acknowledge when they bump into strangers. Families shove him to get a better spot to wait for their baggage. He can’t think.

  _Meg._

_Where have I heard that name before?_

 The bags start rolling out on the conveyer belt, and people move up eagerly to collect their bags first. Dean stays put, although he is shoved around countless times from oblivious assholes. He sees his bag exit from the opening and moves forward to get it. He tries to get through the mess of people but is evidently stopped, due to the high number of people trying to do the same thing. He’s getting aggravated as _fuck_. 

He ends up conforming to the rest of the assholes, and _shoves_ people out of the way to get his bag. 

 He grabs it from the line and stomps his way out of the crowd. The air is cooler and easier to inhale. Dean navigates his way outside, and it’s even fucking _worse_. People are lined up on the edge of the sidewalk hailing down cabs, trying to catch shuttles, and morons who run into the street without a glance in either direction.

  _Lord have mercy._

 Dean moves to the edge of the sidewalk and raises his hand. A taxi approaches.

 “Taxi!” He yells, and steps outward toward the street. The cab stops, and Dean sighs in relief. He bends down to clutch his suitcase but is rammed on his side by a guy who _steals his cab_. “Are you shitting me, dude?”

 The man opens the cab door and sits down. He gives Dean a sympathetic, yet non sympathetic look, “Welcome to New York,” The man says before shutting the door. Dean looks the guy dead in the eye, walks up to the cab, and holds his middle finger up against the window before the car drives off.

  _P_ _rick._

 The second time he hails a cab, he makes sure that no one steals it. He rushes to the door, opens it, and slams it shut. He takes a deep breath. The driver stares at him weirdly for a second, then reverts his eyes to the front. 

 “The condominiums on Park Avenue,” Dean says, exhaling and leaning his head back against the seat. It isn’t until the car starts to move that he finds himself getting scared _shitless._

  _What I am going to say?_

 He hadn’t planned anything out. And suddenly he’s faced with the worst possible scenario he could think of: he goes to Castiel’s apartment, opens the door and remains speechless. Castiel would probably slam the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. He can’t imagine how _angry_ Castiel must be at him.

He suddenly felt like he somehow forgot all about Castiel - how he reacts to certain things, what he finds funny, what he dislikes. What if Dean flat out embarrassed himself and instead of telling Dean to fuck off, he _laughed_ at him, _ridiculed_ him. 

 That would be _so much fucking_ worse. 

 He’s starting to sweat again. Dean honestly didn’t know that he could sweat this much, and he feels like he’s been sweating profusely for the past couple weeks and he doesn’t know why. He stares out the window and watches the passing people on the street. For a second he swears he could see the quick dash dark hair and a trench coat, but as he sits up in his seat to look again, there’s nothing there but the faces of unfamiliar people. 

  _Okay, back to the plan._

 

_What do I say?_

 

The anxious feeling that’s caught in his throat is making him want to throw up. Dean takes a shaky breath, “How much longer do you think?” He asks.

 The cab driver eyes him from the rearview mirror, “Should be about ten minutes. Maybe a little less.”

 Dean tries to swallow, but his throat is too tight. He doesn’t think he's ever been this nervous before. 

 “You alright?” 

 Dean looks up and sees the cab driver looking at his reflection. Does he really want to ask _this_ guy for help? The guy couldn't be more than 35 years old at the most. He’s a young looking dude; Dean would even say that maybe he’s a little handsome. His blue eyes are piercing, but nothing like Castiel’s. What would _he_ know?

 “I gotta’ make an apology,” Dean starts, and for some reason he can’t really find it in him to stop, “And a part of me doesn’t wanna’ make it. But I know that I have to. I need to.”

 The driver keeps his eyes on the road for a minute or two. Dean thinks it was a bad idea to say something. He shouldn't be telling anyone, especially a stranger, about his personal business. But honestly, Dean hasn’t talked about it to anyone, really. Sometimes it’s good to just get something out. Even just for a second. 

 “I may not know a lot about life,” The driver says suddenly, “But saying sorry doesn’t always mean you’re guilty. Sometimes it just means that you value your relationship more than your ego.” 

 Dean gapes at the driver hesitantly and then regresses back to his gaze out the window. The rest of the ride is quiet, making the trip long but short at the same time. The driver pulls to the curb adjacent to a tall, wide, and _luxury_ condominium building. 

  _Shocking._

 Dean’s heart immediately quickens as he stares at the front door. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out money to hand to the driver. The man smiles and shakes his head, declining. 

 “Good luck.” He says.

 Dean needed that. “Thank you man. Thank you.”

 “Gadreel,” He says again. “My name is Gadreel.”

 Dean doesn’t spare the details of his name. He nods at Gadreel and opens the cab door. The wind hits him like a punch to the face. Dean gathers his things and begins walking to the front door. His legs beg for him to turn around. He’s never, ever, _ever_ been so scared in his life. 

 He enters the front and sees the lobby of the condominium building, decked in a white and black modern theme. People in business suits and fancy-shmancy clothing give him a second look as he walks to the counter. The woman at the counter stares at him harshly. 

 “Im here to see a resident who lives here,” Dean says, cutting right to the chase. 

 “Okay,” She says in question, “Sign in and I need to have a look at your identification.” 

 Dean scribbles ineligibly on the sign-in paper and anxiously hands her his ID. He’s grateful that he has more time to think about what he wants to say, but at the same time he can’t think at all, and he can’t seem to stop squirming around, tapping his foot and fingers and rubbing the back of his neck. He can’t wait to see his face. His beautiful, beautiful face. Except, what will his face look like when he sees him? Dean imagines him opening the door and Castiel’s face distorting into disgust, into _hatred_. 

 “Who are you coming to see? I’ve never seen you here before.” The lady asks with a perked eyebrow. 

 “Castiel Milton.” Dean tenses a bit when he says his name aloud.

 The lady at the desk clears her throat, hands him back his ID, and nods, “He’s in room seven twenty-three. Elevators are on the left down the hall.”

 Dean nervously sucks in a breath of air and proceeds. He feels like he’s walking on eggshells. The guilt is eating him alive. It gets worse when he reaches the elevator and realizes that he _still does not know what the fuck to say to Castiel_. 

Dean’s feet seem to weigh him down like bricks. He feels like he’s sinking into the ground. The ring of the elevator scares him. The doors open, and he practically falls into the person coming out of the elevator. 

 “Hey! Watch it, buddy— _Dean_?”

 Dean looks up surprisingly, “ _Kansas_?”

 And in all about 3 seconds, Dean puts two and two together. 

 

  _A few weeks ago…._

 

_"So who will I have the pleasure of meeting while I'm there?" Castiel continued. He took a deep breath, hand smoothing across his face. Dean deepened his stare on the road._

 

_"My uncle, Bobby," Dean huffed a laugh, "Don't let him intimidate you. Iron on the outside and fluff on the inside. His wife Karen keeps him in line. My cousins— Claire and Charlie, they'll be there too."_

 

_Castiel pondered, "Are you close with them?"_

 

_"Yeah," Dean nodded, "Family's important to us. It's the only real thing we got."_

 

_Castiel gaped out the window for a second and grinned to himself. "My cousin, Meg, her and Gabriel were close. She took after his-his so called sassy-ways. We always used to call her little demon. She unfortunately learned a lot from Gabriel. He was always, uh, I don't know—the trickster of the family, you might say.”_

 

 Dean’s mouth falls open, “Oh my god _you’re_ _— “_

 

_"You’re_ the _Dean_ that fucked with my cousin’s head?” Meg cuts him off. They both look and stand there completely speechless, eyebrows raised and mouths edging to catch flies. 

 And the next thing that Meg does, is slap Dean straight across the face. 

 Dean winces and holds a hand up to the sore skin, “Okay, I deserved that.”

 Meg turns bright red and holds a pointed finger up to his face. “I’ll give you three seconds to give me a reason why you’re here or you’re going to be getting hit in a much more painful place.”

 Dean has never questioned his ability to be intimidating, but he can’t help but feel like a legit _pussy_ in front of her. He holds up open hands in front of his chest, “I’m coming to get Castiel back.” 

 “Why?” She says quickly. Meg crosses her arms and stares at him intently, never making a slight move. Not even a blink.

 “Because—“ Dean pauses.

 “Because _why_?”

 Dean licks his lips and inhales, “Because I love him. And I fucked up. And I need to tell him that I’m sorry.”

 Meg continues to hold her stare. She looks Dean up and down. “I’ve never seen him this upset about a boy, you know. Whatever you did, buddy, you better fuckin’ fix it.”

 “I know. I’m going to try—“

 “No, Dean. You _are_. You _are_ going to fix it.” Meg takes steps closer to him, causing him to back up against the hallway.

 Dean sucks in for air, “Meg I-I don’t know what to say,” His lips quiver like he means to say something else, but that’s all that needs to come out. That’s all he’s been worried about. 

 Meg uncrosses her arms, and he face softens ever so slightly. “Say it before you run out of time,” She lays a hand on his arm, “I can tell just by looking at your face that you’re the type to run from what you feel. That only invites the madness, Dean. When you accept it, and only when you accept it, will you be able to control it.” Meg whispers gently. She tightens her grip on his arm for a brief moment before letting go and walking away. 

 Meg’s brown, curly hair flips as she turns away, “Go get your gold star, sugar pants.” 

 Dean watches her leave, walking right out the door and never looking back. Dean kinda’ hopes it won’t be the last time he sees Kansas.

 And now, back to reality. 

 Dean steps forward, and holds his finger on the seventh floor button. He’s not as anxious as he was before, but instead he’s feeling something different. Like he needs to get something off his chest. The ride up was quick, and he steps out of the elevator feeling confident, yet completely terrified at the sam time. 

 He slowly passes the doors, carefully eyeing the room numbers. 

 

_701_

_703_

 

Dean takes a breath. _Okay, what’s the first thing I should say?_

 

_705_

_707_

_709_

 

He clenches his fists. Apology first? ‘I love you’ first? ‘I screwed up’ first?

 

_711_

_713_

_715_

 

His heart picks up. Whats the worst thing he could say? Well, the worst thing he could say was basically, ‘ _no_ ’. And then Dean realizes that would be the one thing that he doesn’t want to hear. He grips the handle of his suitcase so hard it hurts his palm. 

 

_717_

 

Dean’s excited to see him. He’s missed him. He’s missed him so fucking much. He can’t wait to see his eyes.

 

_719_

 

His hair.

 

_721_

 

His mouth.

 

_723_

 

Him. 

 

Dean stands outside the door, staring hopelessly into the sleek, black piece of wood thats in front of him. The name _Castiel Milton_ lays gently on a white plaque under his room number. 

 He raises a hand to knock, but quickly hesitates and lays his palm flat on the door. He seriously feels like he’s going to throw up. 

 

_“I can tell just by looking at your face that you’re the type to run from what you feel. That only invites the madness, Dean.”_

 

He clenches his fist. 

 

_Knock, knock, knock._

 

Dean freezes. He waits. His heart threatens him. All he could do in that moment was clench his fists so hard that he risked breaking fingers. 

 

The door opens. 

 

Silence. 

 

The look on Castiel’s face is something Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget. He’s stunned, thats for sure, but Dean can also tell that there’s a hint of bliss in his eyes. His beautiful, blue, luminous eyes that he’s ached to see again. His lips, _jesus christ_ his lips, gently parted. Dean has never wanted to grab him and kiss him so badly. The only thing that Dean can think is, _there he is_. Everything from the past few weeks flood his mind. They stare, silently, perfectly still. Dean can’t open his mouth at all. He’s completely, utterly, stuck. 

 Castiel is the first to break the ice.

 “Dean.” He says deeply. It’s good to hear his voice again. Dean had almost forgotten how inviting it is. 

  _Okay, Winchester. That’s your cue._

 “Hey Cas,” Dean starts, not knowing a fucking clue where he’s going. 

 ' _Hey, Cas'?! That’s it? That’s all ya’ got?_

 Castle exhales, unable to look away from him. “Hello, Dean.” 

 Dean takes a small step closer. His mind is a total blank. “I-I’m sorry. I know you think that you were a mistake but, you’re not.” 

 Castiel gapes at him, edging him on, like he wants _more_. He wants Dean to say more. Dean knows _what_ he wants to say, he just doesn’t know _how_ to say it. Castiel’s eyes were lighting, striking his mind and thoughts and frying them to goo. 

 Dean opens his mouth again as chills run up his arms, “You weren’t meant to happen,” He starts, and he sees Castiel’s expression distort ever so slightly into apprehension, “But that doesn’t mean you’re a mistake.”

 Castiel’s face changes again, into something soft, something kind. Dean can see the blue speckles threaten floods as his eyelashes flicker. Castiel swallows, his hands fall down to his sides and tense. Dean thinks Castiel can break at any moment now; his face full of mercy that begs down on both knees. 

 Dean steps forward, placing his hands around the sides of Castiel’s face. Castiel’s initial reaction pushed him backward, but soon, he lets Dean hold him.

“Cas,” He whispers, and Castiel shuts his eyes at the sound of his name, “I’ve never been one for apologies. But the one thing that I can tell you is that when I first saw you, I never wanted anything more in my life than to rip your head off." Castiel lets out the smallest of laughs. It makes Dean so incredibly happy to see him smile, "But now I—”

_ No.  _

Dean stops himself, this isn't the right way to say it. 

Dean's thumbs brush Castiel’s unshaven cheeks. Dean can feel that Castiel is helpless under his touch. 

 “Cas," Dean continues again, "In the few weeks we've been together you've fixed me in places I thought were beyond possible repair. I can't thank you enough for that. And I was a jerk for ever letting you believe that you were a mistake.” Dean presses his forehead to Castiel’s. The things that had just come out of his mouth, it almost makes him want to grimace. He’d never, ever say that to anyone else. He didn’t even think those things were possible to say. It’s so not _him_. But Castiel has changed that. 

 Dean feels Castiel grip the sleeves of his jacket, squeezing the old leather in his hands. His eyes are shut tightly, and Dean’s kind’ve happy they are, or else he wouldn’t be able to focus. The next words are extremely hard to push out. Dean pulls Castiel’s face closer, and Castiel completely melts in his hands. 

 “I fucking love you, Cas.”

 Castiel’s fingers tighten so hard against Dean’s jacket that it pulls his skin. And in a single, flashing moment, their kissing. Dean doesn’t really know when the feeling of warm breath against his face changed to Castiel’s lips, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the undeniable force of heat that swarmed them, pressing them closer together. Castiel smiles, breaking the kiss and opening his eyes to finally look at Dean. 

 “Yeah, I know.” He says, fading out of Dean’s grasp, holding his hand and walking away until he can no longer clutch on. Castiel turns around for a brief moment, slimming his eyes and spreading a wide grin. He walks through his apartment, opening the door to his bedroom and stepping inside. 

 “When you’re ready,” Castiel winks, inviting him in and disappearing into the bedroom. 

 Dean stands with his mouth gaped, “Dude just Han Solo’d me.” He whispers in awe before dropping his bag on the floor, kicking the front door closed, and eagerly making his way to the bedroom. 


End file.
